#now THIS is some pride month nonsense i can get behind

[tf-lover]

Commission - Undercover Truths

Interested in commissioning me? Check out this post for more information on rules and pricing.

Detective Patrick Walters had been in the game a long time. Having just hit 40, he was still in very good shape compared to a lot of guys his age. By this point he’d watched many formerly athletic colleagues in their youth grow lazy and spend more time behind a desk than in the gym, but not Patrick. He was still in the gym five days a week, working out to keep himself in top shape. He prided himself on it. Sure, most of the time you didn’t get dramatic chases like the movies showed, but there were occasions over the years where his athletic prowess had mattered. And besides, it wasn’t for the job. He stayed fit because he liked how it felt, even now into his 40’s he worked hard to keep his appearance as good as it could be for himself and the ladies he hooked up with.

As a seasoned detective who’d worked his way right up the chain from a new member of the force at 18, Partick knew what he was doing when it came to the job. Living in a big city there were always new cases being dropped on his desk. From murders to drug crime at the extreme end, there wasn’t much he didn’t know how to handle at this point in his life. 

This new case though, this one had been tough. Gang activity, but none of his usual sources had been at all useful, and any evidence he’d gathered so far was circumstantial at best. He’d been on the case long enough to know some shady stuff was going on; everything from drugs to disappearances had crossed his desk; but there was never enough hard evidence to back up his instinct that all the cold cases over the last few months were connected. He knew they were though. He could feel it in his bones, as nonsense of a notion as that was. 

So, as he saw it, Patrick only had one option left. 

“Absolutely not.” The precinct’s chief, a man Patrick had been friends with a long time named Simon, said when he put forward his idea. “Out of the question Detective, I’m sorry. I can’t authorise an undercover mission to investigate a hunch, as much as I agree these cold cases are odd and need a solution, we’ve got no proof the downtown gangs are responsible. Sending you in without a strong reason or proof of their involvement just isn’t something I can authorise.” Simon had an apologetic look on his face as he sat back in his desk chair. “I’m sorry Patrick, really. I wish I could help, but I just can’t authorise an op like this and you know it. Maybe taking some time off would help clear your head of all this? You barely ever use your vacation time, that I could quite easily approve.”

A small smile spread over Patrick’s face. “You’re right Sir, maybe I should use up some of those vacation days.” He turned to leave the office, but paused when he got to the door and glanced back at the chief. “Thank you Simon, really.”

“Don’t know what you’re thanking me for Pat, I’m just approving some vacation time is all.” Simon didn’t give any hint of anything showing through, but Patrick didn’t need him to. “Now get out of here, you’ve got some vacation time to enjoy.”

Patrick nodded and headed out of the office. He was lucky he’d known the chief as long as he had, he’d have missed the hint at an off books snoop around if not. Simon couldn’t approve a full on investigation, but if Patrick could come to him with enough evidence, officially or unofficially obtained, to link one of the downtown gangs then maybe he could launch something. He’d have to be careful though, since he knew there was no protection if he was caught; Simon would have to deny all knowledge and claim he went rogue. 

All he had to do now was finish off some paperwork then he’d be ready to head off for his ‘vacation’. One that, little did he know, was going to be far more life changing than he was expecting…

~~~

It’d taken a couple of days and a lot of phone calls, but eventually Patrick had found an in. He’d hung around the right places and managed to run into a former member of the largest gang in the city, one who let just enough information slip when Patrick had pretended to be someone the guy knew from the gang years ago. Act in the right way and you could get people to think you knew them from a long time ago, a skill Patrick had become fairly good at over the years.

Armed with the knowledge he needed, Patrick made his way to the warehouse district of the city after that conversation. He’d long suspected there was gang activity around these parts, but had never had enough specifics. Now was different though, as now he knew the rough area to check. There were only a few unused warehouses in the southern part of the district below the river, so one of those had to be the one he was looking for. 

The first one was a bust. Picked the lock and slipped inside, only to find stacks of rotting cardboard boxes, filled with products from a toy company he knew had gone out of business several years ago. 

The second of the three ws now in use he’d discovered. When he’d walked up there were a few workers loading furniture into the back of a van, and a quick conversation after pretending to be lost had revealed this definitely wasn’t the place he was looking for. 

All he had left was the third one he knew was abandoned. 

When he got there he was glad to see no signs of life like the second one. No signs of anything when he walked in, not even boxes stacked up like the first. He still had a good look around though, just to be sure he hadn’t missed anything. And he was lucky he did, as in one of the back corners was a hatch that had to lead down to a basement. As he descended the ladder down he could see a soft glow of some type of light and the sound of a voice, which meant he had to be in the right place. 

A few seconds later he stepped back onto solid ground to find himself in a short corridor with sets of doors along each side and one at the end. It was this end one that piqued his curiosity, as this one unlike the others was slightly ajar and was the source of the sound and pale glow. 

Partick stepped closer quietly and carefully, not wanting to alert anyone that might be inside. The closer he got though, the more he realised it wasn’t a conversation he could hear and wasn’t a light on he could see. It was the same voice saying the same words on a loop of several minutes, which meant the light was probably a TV playing a video on a loop. Why there would be something like that down in the basement of an abandoned warehouse he had no idea, but it was definitely suspicious enough to lead him to believe he was in the right place. 

Once he got to the door at the end of the corridor, Patrick hovered outside for a few moments to make sure he couldn’t hear anyone moving around. When he was sure he pushed his way into the room, gun held low and ready to fire if it came to it. As he suspected though, there wasn’t a soul in sight; only him, the TV as he’d guessed, and the rest of the small room. A table with clothes and a half used pack of cigarettes on, a shower in one corner, and the TV in the centre of the room with a chair in front. It was an odd set up to say the least, and not what Patrick had been hoping to find. 

“This is… What even is all this for?” Patrick mumbled to himself as he walked around. The most confusing part of it all was the fine layer of dust on everything, a sign no one had been here or touched this stuff in some time. “No one’s been here, so why is the TV on? I can’t have been left on for the same amount of time as this other stuff hasn’t been touched.”

With nothing particularly interesting laying around the room, Patrick turned to the TV. He’d largely ignored it until now, but with no other signs of a clue it was the only thing left. It was clearly pretty old, not one of the more modern flat screens by any means. It wasn’t playing anything in particular though, all he could see was a blank white screen that occasionally flickered to black when whatever was playing looped to the beginning. 

Welcome back home Lance, you’ve been gone a while.

The words the voice spoke struck some kind of chord within Patrick’s mind. He wasn’t this Lance guy, but somehow he knew instinctively he was the one being spoken to by the deep voice. A pause later as Patrick moved around to the front of the TV and the voice spoke again. 

Not saying anything? Figures. At least take a seat why don’t you?

Patrick sat down in the ratty chair without thinking about it. Not until he’d got comfortable anyway did he realise he’d just listened to what the voice said. It was like it was talking to him, but that wasn’t possible. Was it? 

“Who are you? What is this place?” He asked, his curiosity getting the better of him despite the logical part of his brain knowing he’d heard all this before in the background as he’d looked around the room. “Can you hear-”

We’re not having a conversation, I just know you well enough to know what you’re going to ask whilst you’re like this. I’m your everything Lance, I’ve missed you.

Missed him? How could this voice have missed him when he didn’t even know who it belonged to? Despite that, there was still a shiver of satisfaction as whoever this man was said that; Patrick was suddenly feeling like he had missed the man behind the voice too. It made no sense, but he couldn’t deny the feeling was there now out of nowhere. 

It sent a jolt of panic running down his spine and Patrick fought the urge to stay sitting in the chair like he’d been told. He wanted to run, get out of here and all the strangeness of this small, dark room whilst he still could, but something deep in his core kept him locked in place.

You’re probably panicking right now. Have a cigarette Lance, that always helps you calm down.

Patrick’s eyes flicked over to the pack on the table. There was a lighter there too he realised, all ready for him to grab and light up. Patrick had never smoked in his life, not even a slight puff on one as a teenager. He hated the things, could never see how someone would want to destroy their body like that. 

He was reaching over to swipe them up before he knew what he was doing. Slid one out of the pack, balanced it between his lips, then flicked the lighter with a practised ease and set the cigarette burning. Two fingers around the end by his lips to keep it steady, then one deep inhale later he felt that sweet, familiar rush of nicotine and a calm wash over him. Lance blew the smoke out slowly as he pulled the cigarette from his lips, letting out a content sigh as he did. He’d missed that feeling. 

Patrick blinked down at the cigarette in his hand as he was about to raise it back to his lips. What had he just done? For a moment he’d lost himself completely. No coughing after what he knew was his first time smoking; the ease with which he pulled one out a lit up wasn’t one he possessed; he definitely wasn’t familiar with the calming high he got afterwards. It wasn’t possible for him to be missing a feeling he’d never felt before, and he absolutely did not know where the momentary comfort with being this ‘Lance’ dude had come from. 

Again.

On reflex, Partick slotted the cigarette back between his lips and took another long, heavenly drag from it. Smoke filled him up, swirling around as he held it inside for a moment to enjoy the sensation before he let it back out in a lengthy blow. 

Comfort. Home. Relaxed. All those feelings swirled around with the smoke as he took drag after drag from the cigarette between Lance’s lips. 

Confusion. Panic. Fear. All those feelings left Patrick as he blew out the smoke each time. 

There wasn’t anything to worry about here, the cigarette had reminded him. He belonged here, this wasn’t some break in, he was just coming home. Each inhale of smoke he calmed down as the previously unknown itch for nicotine was scratched, each exhale Patrick felt more comfortable and at ease letting this voice call him Lance. It felt right, more right than Patrick felt as his name in the current moment. 

Once you’ve finished that off Lance you should get changed. Have a shower to wash off all that hair dye and makeup covering your tattoos, then your usual gym clothes are all there just as you left them. 

Lance looked over at the shower in the corner of the room. He could do with a shower after the long day, even if he didn’t quite know what else the voice was talking about. He ran a hand through his grey hair as he stood up and kicked his shoes off. It’d been brown once upon a time, but he’d never cared enough to dye it as he grew older. He’d never liked the way tattoos looked either, so why the voice thought he’d need to wear makeup to cover something he didn’t have was beyond him.

Nevertheless, he still switched the shower on then stripped quickly and stepped under the warm spray. It felt almost as good as the cigarette had, so much so he unconsciously turned the heat up higher than he’d usually tolerate. There was something about the almost scalding hot water as it rolled down his neck from his head, over his shoulders and down his torso, something that just felt right. There was a cloth and bottle he could only assume was shower gel, so he squeezed a generous amount into his hands and started rubbing it into his skin. Under his arms, over his crotch and between his ass cheeks, then up and over his shoulders and back into his hair, barely an inch of him was spared.

Once he was properly soaped up, Lance turned a little to place himself back directly under the spray and went to work washing it all off again. He barely noticed the grey colour that came with the suds in his hair, or the pinkish tint that sloughed off as he rubbed at his skin. Dark lines appeared the more he rubbed and cleaned, revealing dark tattoos and tanned skin all over his body, just as the voice had claimed. As he washed his hair he watched as some of it fell out and washed away down the drain, leaving it now cropped perfectly short to his scalp.

“When did I…?” Lance hesitated for a second as he stared at his inked flesh when the last of the shower gel had washed off. He didn’t remember getting tattoos… or did he? “Huh, yeah. That’s… that’s my ink. Missed seeing that on this job, maybe I’ll get more to celebrate being finished at last.”

“You did a great job getting into the police so deep Lance, I’m proud of you. Undercover work isn’t easy, but you’re done now.”

Lance smiled to himself as he stepped out of the shower and dried off. It was all coming back to him now. He wasn’t a cop or a detective, he was only pretending to be for the gang to throw off some of the stuff they’d been doing. He wasn’t this perfect Patrick Walters guy, that was just an alias they’d created for him. The memories of that life, growing up into some old guy like that, none of it was real. It was a backstory they’d planned out together. Even now he barely noticed as the memories slipped away, just the important details Lance had to memorise for the job sticking around. 

The location the voice was coming from had shifted too, but Lance was too preoccupied with drying himself off and grabbing his clothes to notice. It was clearer and closer to the door instead of sounding like it came from the TV in the centre of the room, not that it made a difference as Lance pulled on his favourite jockstrap and shorts. A tank top that showed off his muscles and tattoos followed, along with the necklace, backwards cap and earrings he always wore. 

He felt comfortable again now he’d dropped out of the disguise and got back to himself. How the stupid pigs had ever believed some shitty hair dye and makeup he hadn’t a clue, it wasn’t exactly a believable disguise. That and somehow passing for a man who just turned 40 when Lance himself had turned 28 only a few months before the beginning of this undercover stuff; the cops were really all as stupid as he thought they were. 

“How’re you feeling babe? Better to be back?”

The voice that was very clearly from inside the room startled Lance for a second before he looked up to see his boyfriend, who was also the leader of the gang he was part of, stood at the door. He had his arms folded over his chest and his signature smirk on his face, one that always got Lance’s cock throbbing.

“You know I am Raf. Been dying to be back in your arms for months.” Lance said as he strolled across the room. When he got close enough he untangled Raf’s crossed arms and pressed himself up against his lover, their muscled bodies snug together. “You got no idea how much I’ve missed you and myself, pulling off the straight older cop shtick was torture.”

Raf rubbed a hand over Lance’s shaved hair then let them slide down and settle around his waist. “I bet it was, but you’re back to normal now eh? Can get the hell outta here and get shit moving on the next phase. Now you’ve thrown them off us we can expand and take over the smaller gangs, become the big underground name around here. We’re gonna own this city thanks to you babe.”

Raf leaned in and kissed him then. Lance happily kissed back, letting his lover's beard scratch against his jaw as their lips slid together. It was more heavenly than the cigarette, which was something considering how much he smoked in one day. Not smoking or being with Raf had been the worst torture of his life, but it was all over now. He had his boyfriend back kissing him, his life back, everything. 

A few moments later the kiss ended and Raf slid out of his arms. He still held Lance’s hand tight as he pulled him out of the small room and pushed him back towards the ladder upwards, then let go so his lover could move. “You go on up Lance. I’m just gonna clear this place out, then I’ll come meet you up there and we can leave yeah?”

Lance nodded and grabbed hold of the ladder. “Sure thing Raf, I’ll see your sexy ass in the car for some hot sex yeah?”

Raf nodded and smirked again. “You bet your ass I will. It’s been long enough, I’ve missed the way you suck dick.” He watched Lance blush as the other man climbed the ladder out of the small basement, leaving Raf alone down there. He switched the TV off, grabbed up the clothes his boyfriend had taken off to get in the shower earlier, then walked back to the door. “Well Patrick, that sure went off without a hitch, didn’t it?” He said to the empty room before he locked it and headed off to catch up with Lance. 

Raf had a lot of fucking to do so he could make up for lost time, though whether that time was a few months or a lifetime was anyone’s guess…

#racial transformation #mental changes #male transformation #my writing #tf commissions #age regression

[bakugoushotwife]

inextricable (sasuke x reader)

a/n: just gonna dip my toes in the naruto water..see what we think. It's been so long since I watched Shipudden so if I get something wrong...no I didnt xoxo. this is definitely gonna need a second part, I wanna see if anyone likes it before I get too ahead of myself.

summary: Itachi spared two souls that night, his brother and the sister of the man he held most dear. No one can find the second Uchiha, no one can find out that there is a pureblood male and female still alive, ones that were born to be...inextricable.

pairings: sasuke x reader, maybe some naruto x reader if you squint

warnings: mentions of blood and death, angst!!! asshole Uchiha nonsense, dad mode Kakashi, reader is a bully lmfao, uhhhh long as shit

wc: 7840

next final

You were born to be best friends. At least, that’s what each of your parents had in mind. When Hae Uchiha told Mikoto that she was once again pregnant, the latter practically jumped for joy. She was a few months along with another boy, and she imagined your mother’s next child would make a perfect pal for her second born. Itachi and Shisui got along famously, the two borderline inseparable. 

Mikoto extended her hand to cover Hae’s not-yet showing stomach. “How far along?” She asked with a warm smile on her lips. 

Hae closed her eyes and returned the same embraceful grin. “Just a few months, she should be born soon after your boy!” 

“She! How exciting, I’m sure Sasuke will protect her for her whole life! Have you decided on a name yet?”

“Y/N…I always dreamed of naming my daughter Y/N.”

Mikoto returns her hand to her own stomach, her bump showing through. “That’s beautiful, Sasuke and Y/N…yes, they’ll be another version of our Itachi and Shisui!”

Hae beamed, knowing that her daughter would have a forever ally. 

Well, she had hoped, anyway. 

Nonetheless, you and Sasuke never spoke. He went out of his way to stay out of your path and you did the same for him. Truth be told, there was a great reason. There was hurt, and anger, and most forcefully, the fear, and what you had to do to hide. 

You had been friends, once. Just like your mothers had wanted, from birth, the two of you became inseparable. Where Shisui was a few years older than Itachi, feeling like an older brother to two now; Sasuke was only a few months your senior, making the two of you closer than even your own siblings.

Make no mistake, Shisui’s love for his younger sister was widely known and highly regarded. One might mistake you as his own daughter, if he wasn’t just nine years old. You were a much anticipated gift to the boy, he had been begging for a sibling for years. And his parents tried and tried to fulfill this wish, overjoyed when it came true. You truly were the pride of your branch, as hard as it may be to believe with Shisui’s reputation. Itachi was always kind, about six years older than you. Itachi would often babysit the two of you, being the perfectly responsible young man he was. Itachi was just happy to see Sasuke happy, and bonus points for you as well. He seemed oddly relieved that Sasuke had someone to grow attached to.

So you were, for about six years. You learned to walk together, he learned how to spell your name before he learned to spell his own, you refused to take naps without him. Once, Shisui and Itachi built little tricycles for the two of you, Sasuke’s purple and yours green. You rode those tricycles all over the village, laughing in the hot Konoha sun. You would traverse to the mountains and collect fruits to bring back for your mother to bake into sweet pastries. It was magical, it was perfect. Until that infamous night. 

That fateful night, the night that tore apart mind and soul, body and spirit. You thought it couldn’t get any worse. A hole had been left behind when Shisui died, something irreparable and ever painful. You couldn’t call it a void, for it was too powerful. It was nearly two years ago now, your tiny body and soul already weighed down with his loss. It created a rift between you and Sasuke, too. Itachi was blamed for his death for a while, and it hurt even more to feel so alone. You felt like you were drowning and no one was there to pull you back up, no one to even notice you slipping away… 

You had grown numb to the life that was without Shisui and Sasuke, you went to training and classes like you were supposed to. You did what you were told at home, your parents just as much a shell of themselves as you were. Everything that was colorvision faded to dull grays and empty blacks. Where you once saw beauty, you saw injustice. Where there was once love there was now ugly pain that had rooted, hatred growing in its place. Hatred for who? For Shisui, for dying? For Sasuke, for letting rumors pull you apart? For the forces of the universe that caused it all to begin with? You weren’t quite sure, maybe it was a mixture of all three. 

When you came home that evening, it took you a moment to realize. The house had been quiet since Shisui passed, there was simply no joy without him. Yet still, you were used to the sound of your father’s footsteps shuffling through the kitchen, the clink of dishes. The sound of your mother turning pages in her book–everything was silent. Eerily so. A dread washed over you, familiar with the haunting ache. What was left of your heart sank in your stomach as you realize there was blood on the walls. Your breathing became rapid and shaky, you crept down the hall, hoping it was some cruel joke from the village or–or maybe it was paint!

There was no humor in what laid before you that night. Your parents lay slumped over, almost like they were sleeping. Kagami laid propped up against the wall, seated perfectly on the floor with his head tucked into his chest. Your mother’s head lay in his lap, her torso twisted at an awkward angle, legs sprawled. 

Tears cloud your vision immediately. You could feel your knees wobble and buckle, seemingly too heavy for yourself all of a sudden. You fell forward, hands and knees catching you and making a sickening squelch. You realize the stickiness soaking into your skirt was blood, the dark red blood of your parents. You scream. It’s more of a wail, your entire body wracked with emotion so strong, your eyes begin to burn. It hurts, it gives you a headache, and when you force your eyes open again, the world looks different. It felt…slower. You can see a glistening trail of what you can identify as chakra, it glows all over the house, coming in through a window and leaving through the front door. This had happened before, when Shisui died. Your sharingan was activated for the first time. This was different, it felt like a new level. You pull yourself up, running at the door. You throw it open and run into the street, tracking the chakra house to house where you only find more slumped over bodies. The entire clan, everyone…they’re gone. They’ve been slaughtered, every last one. You can’t bear it when the chakra trail leads you down Sasuke’s path, knowing you would find the last of your home in there. You never got to make amends, never got to reunite. Sasuke would be dead, just like everyone else you ever cared for. 

You’re stopped in your tracks when you see a figure in the street, you notice glowing red eyes, the pattern so familiar you couldn’t help but gasp. “I-itachi?” Your chin wobbled, the tears coming back as you ran closer, relieved to find someone alive, someone you know. 

“Back away, child.” His voice thundered, it chilled you to the bone. He had never spoken to you like that. 

“Itachi, it’s m-me! Y/N, you know me! I-I’m scared Itachi!” You plead with him, the new vision of yours highlighting the blood on his clothes the closer you got to him. 

“The second tomoe..” He revered, a nod of approval following, just as quick as it came, the familiarity left. He was icy again when he spoke, “You should be scared. You’ve realized what I’m capable of.” 

You fall back, astonished. This couldn’t have been, no, you refuse to believe such a thing. Itachi wasn’t…capable of this? He looked as if he was going to speak again, but another figure moving rapidly towards you grabbed his attention. It was Sasuke, alive after all. 

“I don’t believe it!” Sasuke said, tears streamed down his face, “This is too unlike you, Big Brother. I mean…” He looked around wildly, finding solace in your presence, relief. You couldn’t help the tears, the same relief he had coursing through your own mind. Itachi had spared you both, but why?

“You have the potential to become my opponent.” He directed his voice to his younger brother, ignoring you completely for the time being. “You are someone who could be able to use Mangekyo Sharingan just like me…” The wind blew ceremoniously, whipping up leaves from the ground and sacrificing them to the sky, to the full moon that was the only light to go by. “However, on one condition…that you must kill your closest friend..Just like I did.” His gaze flickers to you then, making Sasuke’s eyes widen. 

Sasuke gasps, as do you. Itachi really did kill Shisui. He has now killed your entire family. Your brother, his best friend, died senselessly to the little brother he never had. You were wrecked, this realization makes your head spin, the boy you’ve known since birth…Itachi Uchiha was a cold blooded killer, and your life was forever destroyed because of him. 

“That was…your doing?” Sasuke’s brows knit together in shock and confusion. “Big Brother, you…killed Shisui?” 

“That’s right…and because of that I obtained these eyes.” Itachi replied stone-faced. As if you needed the confirmation, but hearing the words from his very mouth absolutely ruined whatever remained of your soul. You felt your eyes burn once again, the vision skewing, leaving you momentarily blind before you blinked and everything was clear again. It was clearer than before, you could sense the movements of two brothers before they did them, this shouldn’t be possible. You had just awoken your second tomoe minutes earlier, had you already gained the third through this extreme emotional distress? There was rigorous training involved to level up your eyes, you could feel the drain it put on your body as it began to sway in the wind, feeling light. You couldn’t hold on much longer, you knew that, but you were in danger…and so was Sasuke, you had to fight for consciousness. 

“If you attain these eyes, you will become the third person including myself to utilize the Mangekyo Sharingan. However,” He turns abruptly, startling you both. “Neither of you are worth killing. And one day, Sasuke, when you have the same eyes I do…come and stand before me!” Itachi challenges, his eyes swirling into his familiar triangular pattern. 

“And you…” Itachi says, beckoning you forward with the point of his finger. “Come here, child.” He says, issuing an order. Sasuke makes a strangled struggling noise before he falls to the ground, the emotional distress leveling his eyes too fast as well. He was in a genjutsu, you realize, by the sounds he was making on the ground, crying out in agony. 

“Let him out of that! I’ll go with you, I won’t fight. Let him out.” You plead, not in the position to make any demands yourself. Even fighting wouldn’t get you out of this, Itachi was far too powerful, you could never hope to escape. 

Itachi chuckled dryly and shook his head. “No. He needs this. He will foster hatred and turn it into immense power. You…you have to be hidden.” He says, his voice in a dream-like state. He was thinking deeply, wondering what he should reveal to you. Enough to keep you alive, and nothing more. “You will stay away from Sasuke…until it’s time. No one can know your identity. It’s imperative you understand this, child.” He says, and if you didn’t know any better you would think he was panicked. Itachi kept calling you that, child, as if he were not. He was only 14, but he clearly felt much older. 

You were confused, but didn’t even know where to start asking him questions. He didn’t wait for a response, just sweeping you up in his arms and jumping from rooftop to rooftop until he was in the trees with you, Sasuke long abandoned on the outskirts of the village. Itachi was taking you somewhere, apparently to be hidden. “Itachi-san–please, I’m scared, I don’t understand!” 

“You need to be scared! You have to understand. Force yourself to. They can’t know that I left you alive, they know Sasuke will live…they can’t know that you do as well…it would be most troublesome…” Itachi explains without explaining a single thing. Who are “they”, and what involvement do they have in this? “A male and a female Uchiha could save the clan, they will not let that happen. I owe this to Shisui.” Itachi says quietly, dropping down in front of someone’s door. 

A man opens the door before Itachi can make a single noise. He was waiting for Itachi, you realize. 

“Here she is.. Train her to be strong, stronger than you. Keep them apart, keep them safe.” Itachi pleads, or as close to it as he can get. He sets you down, letting you see your new caretaker for the first time. 

“I understand, Itachi. It’s best if you get a move on, they’ll be on your scent soon.” The taller man says, the cover of the night obscuring your vision of him. 

Itachi nods, taking one last look at you with a trace of pain in his eyes. You look down at your feet, not sure what to make of the situation, everything happened so fast. “Thank you, Captain.” Itachi says with a curt nod before disappearing into a puff of smoke. 

It was silent. The wind blew again, whipping your hair into your face and pushing the clouds across the moon like it was a normal night. You begin to cry, everything so overwhelming you couldn’t help but do anything else. You’ve lost everything. Your family is dead, every single one. You, the sole survivor, have been placed with a stranger by the very man that murdered everyone you love. The last person alive that you care for is trapped in a genjutsu, lying on the pavement outside the house of his murdered family. 

The man crouched down to be on your level. He looked young, but you couldn’t really tell. His face was mostly covered, his shinobi headband covering his left eye and a black mask pulled over the lower half of his face. The most notable thing about him was his tall and spiky gray hair. His one brown eye looked at you sadly, and at once you knew he understood. You felt more at ease nearly immediately. You were still wary, after all he seemingly knew what was going on and had worked with Itachi. But the look in his eye and the expressive way he puts his hands on either arm of yours makes you feel safer. He knew sadness too, you recognized it in him. 

“Hello, little one. I know this has been…a horrible night, to understate…but you’re strong. You’re safe now, I’m Kakashi, and I’ll make sure of that.” He nodded determinedly, searching your expression for your next move. He frowns under his mask as you cry, unsure of how to console a young girl at his age of twenty two years. 

“What’s wrong with your face?” You ask, sniffling out your sentences and wiping viciously at your eyes. Your mind was all over the place, you didn’t want to think of this night anymore but the only other thing you could ponder was why the man in front of you dressed like that. 

He chuckled earnestly. “Oh!” He pushed his headband up to reveal a long scar running lengthwise over his eye and down his cheek to where the mask starts, but most strikingly a sharingan sat in the eye he kept covered. The sharingan consumes a massive amount of chakra for non-Uchiha wielders, so you gather that the eye was given or stolen almost immediately. 

“That’s partially why he left you with me. I can help with some of your training. You’re in luck, little one. The Hokage has just released me to be a jonin Sensei. So you’ll get first class training living with me. I…I know I can’t replace what you’ve lost, or hell..even understand what you’re going through.” Kakashi slipped his mask down just for you in this moment, wanting to earn the trust of his new foster child. “I will protect you and make you strong, smart, and ready for this world. It’s you and me now. I set up a room for you..” he adds rather sheepishly, sliding his mask back up after a nervous smile. “We can..make changes to it as time goes on, I wasn’t sure what would best be suitable for a girl of your age.”

You blink at him,eyes still bleary from leftover tears. You wipe at your eyes, your own sharingan taking in his full appearance and making a mental note. His half-baked motivational speech was partly moving, and you could tell he was genuine in this. You tilt your head to the side to analyze him further. He was young, taking on a six year old at his age was surely difficult. He was nervous, you could see that much, but his chakra was powerful and in a way, calming. 

“What about Sasuke?” You managed as he opened the door to his place. 

Kakashi sighs. “He will be taken care of, don’t worry. We have to keep you separate for now, it’s for the best. When you start school it may be different. Do you remember what Itachi said?” He asks, partly wondering what all the boy even told you. 

You nod. “He said they can’t know he left me alive. I don’t know who they are though.” You say, feeling everything all the time all at once. Pain, numbness, sadness, fear, nervousness and wonder. Your eyes were wide and your sharingan kept glowing, a red beacon in the dark night. You looked inside the home, small and neat. It looked like…a real place, which surprised you for some reason. With the night’s events it was becoming difficult to predict what would happen next, in your mind he was going to open the door to a slaughterhouse or some medical lab for testing. You were relieved to see it was a completely normal apartment. The young man led you to a decently sized bedroom right across the hall from the bathroom. It was decorated haphazardly, pink cherry blossom wallpaper was slapped on the wall, a little bed covered up with pink blankets sat in the middle of the room. There was even a closet outfitted with a few changes of clothes, luckily regularly colored. It was a nice effort, you recognized. It was natural for any young man to assume a six year old girl would love pink. Your favorite was green. It reminded you of rolling down hills and the bushes you would pluck fruit from, the trees the sun peeked over, the tricycle your brother built…and Sasuke’s was purple. 

“I hate pink.” You say solemnly, feeling bad almost immediately, he had tried to think of your comfort and here you were, being rude. “B-but it looks nice! Thank you…” You looked to him a bit confused on how you should address him. 

“Kakashi, that’s fine for now.” He rubbed the back of his head nervously, feeling a bit embarrassed for giving you a stereotypical girl room. It was clear that there was nothing to be assumed about you. “What color do you prefer, in that case? I can work on a replacement tomorrow.” Kakashi offered with a closed-eyed smile. 

“Purple.”

Kakashi followed through on his promise. The next time you went into your room, the walls were painted a deep plum, the covers that decorate your bed were as purple as the evening sky after the sun had left, and on a table you noticed a few more trinkets and accessories. There were hair ties and clips, little earrings and a purple headband. He heard the word purple and ran with it. Kakashi wasn’t sure why he displayed all this effort, well he had an idea.

He had knocked against your open door, just to alert you to his standing there. You still looked so sad. It had only been a day after all. At least you had stopped crying, he would happily take the progress. He leaned against the doorway, arms folded over his chest. “I hope some of those things make you feel a little more at home, Kurenai helped me pick them out…” He mentioned, once again, scratching at the back of his head nervously.That was his nervous tick, you noted. 

“Thank you, they’re pretty..” You say with a small smile, reaching for the headband and slipping it over the long black locks signature of your clan, luckily it was also a common characteristic of the citizens of the Stone village. That’s the story, anyway. Kakashi found you on a mission while in Iwagakure. You were newly orphaned, and had no one else to take you in. Which, now that you think about it, isn’t much of a lie at all. You were new to the Leaf village, and Kakashi was your young and kind foster father. It gave him a reason to change, and he didn’t know if he liked that yet; he did know that he wanted you to grow into a powerful kunoichi, and he had no doubt you could accomplish that. 

He cleared his throat. “You know, Y/N…I..” He hesitated, wondering if it was worth mentioning at this moment. He sighed out and continued. “I lost my father when I was six, as well. I don’t pretend to know everything you feel, but I do understand some of your pain. You can talk to me, when or if you ever want to. I’ll listen.” 

You look to your feet, the tears pooling in your eyes again. His kindness was overwhelming at times, you hadn’t expected him to be so warm. He just retired from the Anbu after all, and you were old enough to know what that meant. You nod your head after a minute, picking up a purple fuzzy stress ball. You squeeze down, finding it helps temporarily. 

“Mhm, I will..thank you for being here.” You mutter out after a few beats.  

“A-Alright. We’ll go out for dinner around 7. I’ll come get you.” Kakashi hummed pleasantly, touched by your gratefulness.

You were thankful that you wound up with someone like Kakashi. Last you’d heard, Sasuke was set up in a nice apartment, well taken care of and monitored by Lord Third himself. But he was alone, and that worried you. He was sure to become a cold shadow of the former joyous boy he had been, just as you are. But even you had another person around, someone to at least distract you from the constant pain. Sasuke didn’t have that, he didn’t even know if you were alive. The last thing he saw was his older brother sweeping you up and leaving with you. 

The purple made you feel better. It helped you feel just a little closer to where he was. You hoped he would make friends with the kids in his building, if there was any. You hoped he could power through and find happiness in the little things. Would he try to remember you? Find you, even? Your heart ached, you physically covered it with your hand and winced.  

You decided you hate Itachi. That you would do everything and anything it took to get to him and kill him. You came from a powerful line of the clan too, Shisui was a prodigy and the youngest to ever awaken his sharingan before you did it at four from his death. You committed, promised yourself in Kakashi’s apartment that you would train until your eyes bled, you would master genjutsu just as Shisui had, you would master chakra control. You would learn everything Shisui had mastered, and you would kill Itachi the same way he had killed your brother. 

Little did you know that Sasuke had made himself the same promise. He would avenge his family, your brother in your honor, he would become a worthy opponent and he would use Mangekyo to kill the man that had caused all this pain. 

He was beyond lonely, there was no word to describe the hell he was living. He relived his parents’ death again and again, trapped in a genjutsu by his older brother. But the nightmare was reality. He had no one, everything was destroyed. The only person left was missing at best, dead at the worst. Even once he was released from the genjutsu’s chakra control, the only thing burned into his eyelids was the scene of his parents' slaughter. The only thing he can hear is the sound of your tears as Itachi admits to killing your brother, it’s miserable. 

 Why did Itachi spare them both, did he really just want to fight? Well, Sasuke could give him that. He couldn’t wait to start the academy, to refine his talents and find a rival and friend that could fulfill his needs for the Mangekyo Sharingan his brother wants him to have so badly. There wasn’t a reality that existed where he would kill you for it, as his brother insinuated. He was sure that his new friends would suffice, when the time came. 

Kakashi had arranged for him to proctor your bypass exam the following year. The rules for the Academy aren’t concrete, and you were a prodigy after all. Kakashi stressed your physical prowess and shadow clone jutsu to get you through the Academy in just one year, passing your genin exam easily. 

Over time, your numbness had resided. You found yourself motivated by revenge and desire for rebuilding what was taken from you. Kakashi was a friend and mentor, and he helped you train your eyes and genjutsu regularly. He had to, as you weren’t allowed to display this power outside of the training grounds with no one else around. You had to train harder over the next few years, both your sharingan abilities and those you would use to cover your identity. 

Kakashi and yourself had landed on a plant style jutsu, where you could summon different plants, both poisonous and strangling variations. It reminded many of Hashirama Senju’s wood style jutsu. Your chakra control was impressive, and your inclination toward medical nin was just another tool in your arsenal. You owe most of this to your mentor, who, so far, has followed through on his promise to make you as strong as he can. 

He was impressed by you, a prodigy indeed. It was no surprise you were Shisui’s younger sister. He wondered how you could have absorbed so much from him since he passed when you were so young, now a girl of twelve. He can’t believe he’s had you in his charge for six years now, and how you’ve grown in that time. He cared for you like his own child, even though he was not much older than a kid himself when he decided to take you in. 

It was hard work, especially now. He had been assigned as Sasuke’s sensei, along with two other promising shinobi. He was splitting most of his time between his new team and the child he’s been training for years. He found it hard to hand you over to Kurenai, even though the woman was somewhat familiar with your delicate case. She didn’t know your true identity, as Kakashi would never risk that knowledge to anyone, but she had helped Kakashi with the more delicate matters of your girlhood your entire life. He had kept you in his own training since you graduated the academy, it was time for you to join a team and attempt the chunin exams. He knows you’ll pass easily, so why is it that he’s so nervous? 

Because he knows the days of keeping you and Sasuke apart are over. He knew he wouldn’t be able to prevent it forever, but he wasn’t ready for you to revisit that time in your mind. He didn’t wan your hard work to crumble once you faced your old friend again, under the guise of an adopted Hatake. Would Sasuke call you out immediately? He hadn’t been given the same warnings to stay away, as far as Kakashi knew. The boy was angry, and he was boiling over with immense talent. He had been working with the boy on chidori and other sharingan practices that he had once done with you.  Kakashi knew that there was nothing he could do to prevent Sasuke from seeking revenge, and it bothered him…deep down inside he knew you were the same way, your anger tamed to your own mind. You were quiet all the time, your chakra a lime green–just a few shades lighter than your brothers. He could feel your emotions and recklessness bubble inside you. It was just a matter of time, but the seasoned shinobi worried what would come of the girl once she was faced with the Lone Uchiha, and what would come of him when he saw her. 

You were first. The beginning match was you against a girl named TenTen. You thought she looked silly. Ridiculous, almost. Her speciality was weapons, you heard her talking about it as all the chunin hopefuls piled into the colosseum type building. As far as you could tell, she had no special control of chakra or any impressive jutsu. This would be over quickly. 

The two of you stepped forward, the sound of your first name making Sasuke’s heart stop. He looked over at the scene, brows knitting together in confusion. His teammates, Naruto and Sakura started whispering about the match. But they truly don’t know how to whisper, Sasuke tuning into their every word. Y/N? Hatake…? It looked like you, at least close to what he could remember. But you were definitely an Uchiha, and surely he would have known if you were living in the village this whole time?

“Kakashi Sensei’s daughter?” Naruto asked with a sense of disbelief. “I didn’t know Kakashi Sensei had a family!” He adds.

Sakura slaps him lightly on the arm. “He rescued her from the Stone! She was six when her parents died and the villagers were just too busy to take care of her, that’s what I heard.” 

Sasuke arched his brow in curiosity. Kakashi really hadn’t mentioned you, and the way you walked around the battle ring piqued his interest. You were confident, cocky even. You let TenTen throw a few exploding kunai at you, easily outjumping them. You weren’t using sharingan, he noted, but there was no mistaking that smirk. That truly hadn’t changed a bit, your features easily identifiable to him. It seems like Kakashi attempted bleaching your hair at one point, but it had grown out now. You had dark black roots, your eyes big and dark brown. It was you, there was no argument to be made otherwise. You chuckled at TenTen, making her scrunch her nose up in anger. She charged at you with another kunai. You grasped her wrist, quickly turning it and making her drop the weapon, kicking her hard in the stomach, sending her flying through the air. 

The crowd gasped, knowing the other girl would be seriously hurt if she landed on the hard ground from that height, the power of your chakra control something to be feared. You closed your eyes and weaved a hand sign. Out of nowhere, a giant lilypad caught TenTen, keeping her from serious harm. As the crowd sighed with relief, everyone watched more vines burst free from the ground, tying the opponent to the lilypad without any fuss. 

Needless to say, you won the match effortlessly. Kakashi took a deep breath of relief, wandering over to his own team of hopefuls. 

Sasuke stared at you, watching you help TenTen out of the plant trap once the winner was announced. He didn’t even notice Kakashi coming up behind them. 

“Certainly an exciting first match!” Their sensei said with delight, as if he didn’t know anything about you and was just as surprised as everyone else. 

Naruto nodded with widened eyes before remembering that Kakashi hadn’t mentioned being a father. “Hey, Kakashi Sensei, how come you didn’t tell us you adopted that girl?” 

Sasuke tore his studying gaze away from you to hear the answer to this. 

Kakashi shrugged. “It never came up, of course. My job is to train you as shinobi, not teach you my life story.” He replied coolly, as if they were unreasonable for wondering. 

Sasuke narrowed his gaze at Kakashi, identifying that there was more to the story. There was something he was missing, why would they change your name and try to hide your hair? Why would Kakashi be involved? He needs to find you and ask you himself, because he clearly wasn’t getting anywhere with his sensei. 

But how could he be certain you would talk to him? The last memory you share is his brother basically saying he kept you alive so that he could kill you later. Maybe you were trying to distance yourself from him specifically. Maybe you didn’t know he was here just as much as he didn’t know you were. It was his turn to fight next, but he planned to track you down after the battle was quickly won. You beat TenTen in 18 seconds, his goal was to beat that time. Then he would just have to make you understand that he wasn’t a threat to you. 

He beat your time by six seconds, dismantling Choji Akimichi in 12. You smiled to yourself as you watched him, he was very good. Just as you hoped. It would always hurt to stay apart, you realized then. He surely recognized you from your fight, so now you had to work to keep him away. Just as the battle was wrapping up, you pushed through the crowds, getting stopped by some of the girls your age. You had briefly talked to some of them, but you didn’t care to now. You had to get away, distance yourself. He would surely come looking for you. 

“Y/N-chan! Who do you think the hottest boy here is?” Ino asks, a beautiful blond girl with a ditsy grin. 

You roll your eyes at the question. “Really, that’s what you’re worried about right now?” You ask, confused by her priorities. You turn your head, noticing people parting a little down the way, knowing what that means you turn back to the girl. 

Ino giggles and nods. “I’m a great multi-tasker! I know all the girls are dying to get closer to Sasuke Uchiha!” She purrs, cheeks turning red at the mention of his name. 

You sigh, with forced disgust you groan. “I for one don’t want to be anywhere near Sasuke Uchiha.” You say, folding your arms and walking onwards, hoping the digging comment would keep Sasuke at arms length. 

You should know better than to think yourself lucky. You feel a weight on your shoulder, keeping you from getting away. 

“Why would you say that?” He asked, voice on the quiet side as he stared at your back. Your hair was wavier than it was when you were younger, or maybe it was just because it was so long. 

You scoff. “I don’t owe you anything.” 

It was his turn to scoff. “Y/N Hatake?” He practically hisses at you. “I think you owe it to me to explain why you’re not using your sharingan.” 

You turn and clap your hand down over his mouth. Your eyes are wide with a frenzied type of fear, searching around to make sure no one heard him. “Don’t say that. You don’t understand.” 

He pushed you off him easily, looking at you with a mix of frustration and confusion. “No I don’t understand because no one tells me anything! I didn’t even know you were in the village!” He says angrily. 

You bite the inside of your lip, debating your options. Maybe it would be easier to explain it all, maybe if he could understand why this was happening he could play his role and you could both stay safe. You know that would help put Kakashi at ease. 

“Come with me.” You order pointedly, walking out of the building with the knowledge that you had at least twenty minutes until your next battle. You keep walking, far away from the building or any people.

Sasuke follows you into the treeline, mind racing. He didn’t know what to expect. He eyes you with his sharingan, noticing your abundance of chakra and power. He blinks his doujutsu away.

 “Now.” He orders expectantly, folding his arms over his chest. 

“I don’t know why…” You admit with a shrug, thinking back to what Itachi said that night, both about Mangekyo and how important it is to keep away from Sasuke. “But when Itachi took me away, he said ‘they’ couldn’t know that he spared me, that it was dangerous to have a male and a female. He said it was imperative for us to stay away from each other, “until it is time.” I’m not sure what that means, really. But Kakashi agrees…there’s more to this that I don’t even know.” You explain cautiously, your eyes trained on the boy in front of you. He hadn’t changed much, except for the most striking thing. His features were haunted by grief, the once happy and smiling eyes turned cold and empty. You wonder if he thinks the same of you. 

“I would never hurt you.” He says simply, a hint of annoyance laced through it. 

You blink at him a few times, unsure of how to respond. “I’m not scared of you.” You clarify for him, looking at a spot on the ground. “I’m scared of the ‘they’ Itachi was worried about.”

He considers this, looking at the same spot on the ground that you are, as if there were hidden answers stored there. “So that’s why Kakashi Sensei never mentioned you, then. He doesn’t want me around you.” He determines, the annoyance gone and replaced with a hint of sorrow. 

“It’s not a personal grudge, he knows how hard it’s been on me…” You defend softly, the corners of your lips dropping. “Until we know who I’m hiding from, I have to stay under cover like this. I’m sorry..”

His body tensed with anger, you could tell he was close to snapping. “I want revenge, I swear I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him for what he did to me, what he did to you!” He announces, eyes teeming with tears of anger. “We can get revenge together, we can find and destroy those that caused this, and you can live as an Uchiha, like you’re supposed to! You can’t be a kunoichi without your sharingan!” 

You sympathize with his pain, after all, you feel the same way. His offer of revenge sounds nice, so you nod. “When the day comes where we are ready to seek revenge, I’ll accompany you.” You say, envisioning the two of you as jounin, ready to track Itachi down. 

He smiles when he hears this. “Until then.” He says, taking another look at you. If he wasn’t so damned angry, his heart would be relieved to see your familiar face, just a few years older. You were utterly unchanged, even the grief written into your face seemed to disappear when you smiled. He would keep his distance like you requested, until it was time to enact revenge. 

You wait for Sasuke to disappear back into the treeline before you begin to walk back to the arena. It would be your turn soon, and you intend to impress–without your sharingan–just to prove how powerful you really can be. 

By the end of your second match against Sakura, the crowd of other expecting chunin whispered amongst themselves. It really wasn’t her fault, she was like the others. She was completely unfocused on being strong, only desiring to look desirable. It’s a shame, you hoped she would change after this. Your Venus Flytrap jutsu was too much against any opponent, she was just its latest victim. Your giant flower sprouts from the ground and grabs the unsuspecting opponent in its teeth, releasing venom on your command. You wouldn’t take it that far unless you wished to kill. You make a few hand signs, “Release!” You call, letting Sakura tumble from the mouth of your monstrous flytrap. 

Still the crowd spoke of your victories, all quick and painless. You were surely impressive, and it was no wonder you graduated to genin in a year, just like your adoptive father. “You can tell she’s trained by Kakashi Sensei.” Someone said as you walked past, shaking their head in wonder. 

“She’ll be another heartless Anbu member in no time, just like her dad.” Someone else declared, linking your emotionless victories back to Kakashi’s vicious streak. You wanted to lash out in his defense, but maybe it’s better if they thought that of you. It’s good for them to compare you, as if you were related the whole time. It kept them from thinking anything was off, so you’d take it for now. 

Sasuke was thoroughly impressed with your abilities, though he’d likely never say so aloud. Naruto was also occupying his mind as his rival was also the other popular subject amongst his classmates. Naruto won all of his battles that day, all his classmates plus the mysterious Y/N Hatake made it to chunin. 

Things only spiraled from that day. Kakashi relaxed a little when you told him that Sasuke understood why you needed to keep your distance. He didn’t mind for his team to interact with you as much now, but Sasuke did. 

He hated being close to you while not being able to be close to you. That annoying Naruto was quickly becoming a close friend to you, leaving Sakura to obsess over him. Needless to say he hated everything about that arrangement. He didn’t want Naruto near you in the slightest, and he hated pathetic girls like Sakura. He hated everyone, no one seemed to understand. He was training for a real goal, meanwhile the others just wanted to be cool. He wanted more, he needed more. He would never relinquish this goal. He would never admit that Naruto was stronger than him, even if it meant he had to leave to become stronger. 

You told him that you would go with him, right? That when the day came, when he was ready to seek revenge, you would go with him. That’s what you said. So Sasuke was loud about his plans, he didn’t care to put Naruto down when he tried to stop him from leaving that day. 

Even when Kakashi explained to him that revenge was not all he thinks it is, he was undeterred. The emotions swirling inside him, the life that was stolen away…he had to get that back. And if Kakashi wouldn’t help him do it, then he would find someone who will. 

Sakura tried to stop him too, right on the edge of the village. The two of you sprinted there when you heard, Sakura a mess of tears, you a mess of nerves and emotion. 

You watched with your mouth agape as Sakura begged him not to go, only met with fierce rebuttals and disapproval from the Lone Uchiha. She even offered to go with him, which evoked a warped laugh from the dark haired boy. 

He was different. Completely consumed by his grief and desire for justice. He wasn’t thinking properly, and your heart dropped when you saw several shinobi from a different village drop from the trees. They’re here as escorts?

“Sasuke!” You shout in disappointment. “You’ll make yourself an enemy of the Leaf, just settle down and think about this for a minute, please!” You step forward, past Sakura and her unyielding tears. 

He chuckled with mirth. “This is all I can think about, Y/N. I refuse to let Sakura join me on this, she’ll just ruin her name.” He groaned, appearing behind the girl and knocking her out in a swift motion, laying her body on a bench. You eye him in disbelief. He was serious about this. You didn’t doubt your ability to stop him by force, excepting the three or four sound village ninja that would surely interfere. 

He looks at you with a crazed glint in his eyes. He holds out his hand to you. “Are you ready to go?”

You look from his hand and then back to him, shaking your head in shock. It’s that curse mark, you think to yourself. This isn’t him, he just needs to see that. “Sasuke, you’re being controlled. You’re not thinking clearly.” 

His mouth drops open in surprise. “Oh on the contrary, dear Y/N. I’m thinking clearly for the first time!” He protests, staring at you with disgust. “You told me you wanted revenge too, you told me you’d join me!” 

“I thought you meant when we were finished training! As Jounin! I didn’t think you meant defecting!” You defend yourself, thinking of Naruto’s heartbreak once he discovered that he wasn’t able to keep Sasuke. 

“Pathetic.” Sasuke hissed, shaking his head at you. “You’re weak. That’s why you can’t bring yourself to leave. You know you can’t take revenge, I wouldn’t want you weighing me down anyway.” He spat, his words cut like a knife. 

“Please don’t do this. They’ll send people after you! You can’t do this by yourself..” You plead desperately, hoping against all hope that you could get to the friend you once held so dearly. 

“Watch me.” He says, casting one last disappointed glare over his shoulder before walking to the shinobi waiting to guide him away. 

You watch him leave, the figures disappearing into the trees without a trace. You didn’t even notice the tears begin to roll down your face, nor did you hear Naruto and Kakashi land on either side of your body. 

“Wh-what just happened, Y/N-chan?” Naruto asked innocently, trying to delude himself against the truth before he even heard it. 

“Sasuke left the Leaf.” You reply, eyes fixated on the spot he last occupied in front of you. He was bound to be tracked down or hurt by someone dangerous before he could come to his senses. Had you upset him so badly that he would speak of your secret? Kakashi seems to know what you’re thinking as you make eye contact. You knew he wasn’t thinking clearly, the curse…you can get him, bring him back and have the mark removed. 

“I can catch him if I go now..”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

tags: @cullenswife @sixxze @anele-anomis @cigarettesandicedcoffee @jheneaikosbae

#naruto x reader #anime #sasuke smut #sasuke x reader #sasuke uchiha #send requests

[zepskies]

Being Human - Part 3

Pairing: Alec McDowell x F. Reader

Summary: Your life made sense before Alec slipped his way in. He unravels your threads without even trying. He frustrates you as easily as he weasels back into your good graces. But you soon realize that this man is worth the challenge.

AN: Remember that in this point in the season, we're in the year 2020 (DA season 2 was released in 2001). And we're about to dive into some rocky waters...

Chapter Summary: The weight of Alec’s secret is starting to create fractures. Because now, you have a secret of your own.

Song Inspo: “Attention” by Avant (ft. Snoop Dog)

Word Count: 4,400

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! For smut, elements of mate claiming, fluff, angst, perilous situations, and a cliffhanger...

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 3: Complications

These are the nights you live for.

The gang’s all here at Crash. You’re accompanied by Max, Logan, Original Cindy, and a fruity cocktail Alec got for you. Though you roll your eyes at the way your boyfriend is trying to hook people into playing a game of pool with him, clearly so he can hustle them. The man has freakish skills.

He’s already won two or three paychecks’ worth off Sketchy, who bows out by necessity.

“Come on. Anyone, anyone! Step right up and test your skills!” Alec calls throughout the back of the bar.

“Babe, would you give it up?” you say, even though you’re smiling. “No one wants to get swindled.”

He turns to you, zeroing in with a flirtatious grin.

“Want to try your hand, sweetheart?” he asks.

You snort. “I think not.”

“Aw, come on. We don’t even have to play for cash. How about sexual favors?” he offers. The more he thinks about it, the more he likes that idea, with a growing smile. His gaze locks on yours. 

“I wouldn’t even mind losing,” he says, giving you a cocky wink. 

You smile, fighting a blush. Max and Cindy roll their eyes. Logan ducks his head in amusement.  

“That white boy nonsense actually works on you?” Cindy asks.

You take a decided sip of your cocktail in lieu of answering.

In the end, Logan steps up to the plate, to much cajoling. When he actually wins, Alec is forced to accept a bruised ago as he forks over $50.

You beckon him over and he joins your half-booth table. You lean against him after he slides in behind you, his arm wrapping around your waist. He presses a kiss to the side of your head, and you know he doesn’t care all that much about the game.

You all cut up as usual for a while, laughing and telling stories from the day of package slinging. Logan patiently listens to all of you Jam Pony alumni commiserating over how each of you would choose to prank Normal (if there were no repercussions). Sketchy ends up with the best idea: putting super glue in the glue stick the man uses on his hair.

When the laughter dies down, Alec offers to buy the next round of beer. He often does, you’ve noticed; he’s a generous person, whether he thinks of himself that way or not. Logan gets up to join him at the bar, wanting to chip in for the pitcher with his “new winnings.”

You shake your head at that. Alec’s pride probably won’t allow competition from Logan for a second time tonight.

“We’re about to be short-staffed again,” says Cindy, earning your attention. “Jenny got knocked up.”

Max’s brows raise, while you give a happy clap and a sound of excitement.

“Oh, good for her! She and Carlos have been trying for months.”

“Hmph. That is one thing I’m not envious of,” Cindy says.

“No kids on your wishlist?” you ask.

“Not a chance, boo,” she replies.

You turn to Max next. “Are you in Miss Anti-Family’s camp too?”

“Hey, ain’t nobody said I’m anti-family,” Cindy cut in. “I believe it comes in all shapes and sizes, and they don’t gotta be your blood.”

You take a moment to think about what she’s saying, and you conceded with a nod and a smile.

“Fair enough, OC. You’ve got it right,” you gestured at her with the hand that held your drink. She clinks her half-empty beer with your glass. Both of you then turn to Max with expectant gazes, still waiting on her answer.

“I’m not into all that domestic stuff, really,” she says. Though her gaze drifts toward Logan, who’s still arguing with Alec at the bar. “My life’s complicated enough.”

Cindy snorts into her glass. You don’t quite get it; maybe because you don’t really know Max all that well, for how often you guys hang out. It’s like she keeps you at an arm’s length. It hurts you sometimes, when you see how close she is with Cindy, but you suppose it’s her right to keep her circle small.

The world’s become a lot tougher after the Pulse. The more people know about you, the more they can use it against you. That’s why finding people you can trust, and even love, is all the more precious.

You glance over at the bar again, where Logan and Alec have seemed to come to a consensus. (Logan’s bowed out of paying for beer.) Alec has a victorious little smile on his face. He looks over, as if sensing your gaze, and he shoots you a wink. Your smile grows.

Meanwhile, Max and Cindy watch you with twin looks of wry amusement.

“So you want the family package, huh?” Cindy asks.

You twirl your straw around your glass.

“I haven’t thought all that hard about it, but…I wouldn’t mind, with the right person.”

Max chortles, pointing a finger towards the bar. “You think that’s Alec?”

Cindy’s brows furrow slightly as she shoots her friend a warning look. You bite your lip and look down at your drink. 

“Now’s not the right time but, maybe someday,” you reply.

Later that night, you treat yourself to a bath in Alec’s apartment. The heater here is amazing. His place is so spacious, with a huge TV in the living room worthy of his obsession with cartoons and soap operas. 

He has another one in the bedroom, where he’s made himself comfortable watching some old sitcom. 

When you eventually get out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around you, Alec is predictably glued to the TV. You don’t even think he’s noticed you when you walk by him to grab the change of clothes from your overnight bag, but he pulls you into his lap before you can get dressed. 

“Why the hell do you need clothes?” he says, stealing a kiss. “Those cumbersome things.”

You giggle, and he smiles against your lips. He rolls you underneath him on the bed and you help divest him of his clothes, down to his boxer briefs. He’s in a good mood tonight, you can tell.

He takes one corner of your towel and peels it off you slowly, until your body is bare for his gaze. His eyes take in every inch of you before they make it back to your lightly blushing face.

He smiles, and he takes down the messy bun from your head to have your hair fanning wildly across his pillows. Your hands move across his chest and further down, but he puts a stop to your exploration. He grasps your wrists and pins them down to the bed with a strength you can’t escape.

You raise your brows. “Alec?”

“Trust me,” he says, dipping down to kiss your neck. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

You suck in a breath. Far be it from you to argue with that.

“Is this one of those sexual favors?” you tease.

He laughs against your skin. “You’re about to find out.”

Then his mouth drifts away from your neck, burning a hot, wet trail across your dewy skin. He finds his way between your breasts, before he lavishes attention to each one. While his tongue swirls around one pert bud, he rolls the other under his thumb and pinches just hard enough to elicit a gasp from you.

Your back arches off the bed a bit; your fingers rake through his sandy hair, clenching whenever he finds a sensitive spot. Both your grip and your voice spur him on, letting him know he’s in the right direction.

You don’t know this, of course, but before a few months ago, he wasn’t so well-versed in this arena. He’s learned his way down a woman’s body with much practice. And he’s come to find that every one of them is different, each with their own set of tells, as he likes to call them.

For example, he knows that even you don’t mind it fast and rough, you prefer it slow, like this. You like a full work up, with his lips dragging down below your navel and his thumbs guiding your knees open, so he can slot himself between your legs.

Already you’re breathing deeper as he makes his way down, pressing open-mouthed kisses down the inside of your left thigh. His tongue licks a languid stripe up the seam of your pussy.

“Alec,” you whine, like you want him to speed up the pace. Maybe you do, but all he gives you is a smirk from between your legs.

“Patience is a virtue,” he teases.

You huff and will yourself to be virtuous, closing your eyes with deep breaths. “Please…”

He chuckles. “I gotcha, baby. Don’t worry.”

His hand slides up your lower belly, both to comfort you and to hold you down. You cover his hand with yours, but your nails soon dig into his skin as his fingers deftly slip past your folds and find your entrance.    

“Already drenched for me, I see,” he remarks approvingly. He gathers some wetness and finds your clit, circling with the pads of his fingers. He searches for the right angle, using the sound of your voice to guide him.

When you suck in a gasp and shudder, he knows he’s found the right spot. He replaces his hand with his tongue, while he slips two fingers deep inside you. As he works you over, unrelenting when your hips threaten to raise off the bed, he holds you down with a firm hand. Your hands fist in his hair as your eyes close and your mouth drops open with your moans.

Finally, you buck against his chin and let out a wordless cry. He feels your wetness coat his tongue and knows he’s making you come. Your inner walls are still quivering around his fingers when he slips them out of you. He actually licks them clean, making you shiver again at the sight.

Alec crawls back up the length of your body while you catch your breath. He smiles down on you and brushes your cheek with the back of his hand.

“Not about to pass out on me, are you?” he asks. A teasing gleam is in his eyes. “I think I can resuscitate you.”

You laugh breathily in response and pull him down to you, crashing his lips to yours. You taste yourself on his tongue, which isn’t unpleasant. Your nails drag down the back of his neck. Alec groans into your mouth and sinks his fingers into your hair.

Now he’s more on your wavelength as you reach for the waistband of his boxer brief and quickly roll them down. He helps you by kicking them the rest of the way off, allowing you to wrap your thighs around his hips tightly.

“Hey, wait a second,” he says, laughing with his forehead pressed to yours. He grabs your hips and angles you a bit higher, then he reaches between your bodies and holds the painfully hard, weeping head of his cock at your entrance.

He meets your eyes, and you smile and squeeze the back of his neck in encouragement.

As slowly as he can manage, he pushes inside you. He stretches open your inner walls inch by inch. Both of you take in deep breaths and utter mingled moans as he continues to push inside, until the head of his cock reaches the very depths of you.

You toss your head back against the pillow with a heavy breath.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod, licking your lips. “Just move, baby, please.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He likes when you call his name, but he thinks he likes even more when you call him baby. He knows that you mean it, unlike women he’s had to pay for.

But he doesn’t want to think about any of those exploits when he’s with you—there’s no comparison. He slides out almost the full length of his cock, before he pushes back in. He builds a slow, sensuous, steady rhythm that serves both of you well.

He actually works up a sweat, and you help him by meeting his thrusts, encouraging him whenever you give him your voice, your instructions and praises, your hands attempting to squeeze the circulation out of his arms.

He's so focused on rocking your world (and his own) that he doesn’t realize what you’re about to do.

He’s deep inside you when you brush your hand along his jaw and utter the truth.

“I love you,” you whisper. 

Alec pauses. 

Both of you are breathing hard, but the fact that he doesn’t say anything makes you freeze. Neither of you have said that before. You hold in your breath. 

Alec’s pupils are blown wide as he dips down, nosing along your throat before he begins to move inside you again. You moan in response as your legs squeeze his hips. He sinks his teeth just above where your neck meets your shoulder, making you gasp and arch against him, gripping his hair tight. 

The way you’re squeezing him so tightly, from the inside out, means he reaches his shuddering end before you do, but he still makes sure you get there for a second time. His fingers reach between you to press and circle around your clit before his last few hard thrusts. It has you coiled tight, before you gasp and moan your release. 

He licks a long stripe along your neck. You hiss in pain when he laps over tender flesh. 

“Sorry,” he pants. 

“You got me good, Count Dracula,” you quip. 

Alec breathes warmly against your ear. He pulls back and examines the bite mark on your neck. He barely remembers doing it.

It’s like…some kind of claim.

Like an animal, he thinks wryly. For the first time, he wonders just what the hell they put into his cocktail at Manticore. 

He clears his throat. 

“Uh, I’m sorry,” he says, contritely. “Didn’t mean to…”

You slide your hands up his arms and catch his gaze. You smile in amusement, even though you’re blushing.

“Didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

The two of you don’t talk about what you said.

Or what he didn’t say.  

You don’t know what’s happening, but you think it stems from that night.

Alec begins to pull away from you. 

Dinner plans get “rain checked.” Trips to the farmer’s market, to the park, to Pike Place get cancelled. 

For the next few weeks, the only time you see him is at work or at Crash, or occasionally in the line for boxed and canned goods in Sector 2. 

Max can’t give you a straight answer on what’s going on with him (and really, you should be able to figure out your own boyfriend without her help). So you finally have to put your foot down.

You try to pull him aside at work, in front of the Jam Pony building. He’s on his way in, while you’d been on your way out. 

“Alec, can I talk to you?” you ask. He gives you a strained, apologetic look. 

“I’ve gotta pick up my next deliveries.”

“Alec, please,” you implore. You squeeze his arm enough to hold his attention. “I feel like…like you’re avoiding me. Is there something going on?”

His expression dims further. “I’ve just been really busy.”

“We’re always busy. That’s not it.” You frown, and your body tenses. “Is there…someone else?”

Alec briefly closes his eyes, emitting a short sigh. “No. Nothing like that.”

You let out a subtle breath of relief, because you do believe him this time. But that just makes your next question even more difficult. Your arms cross, to disguise the way you’re bracing for a figurative blow. 

“Then…have I done something wrong?” you ask. 

That hurts Alec even more. Though his training, so deeply ingrained, allows him not to show it. 

“No. No, it’s not you,” he says, wiping a hand over his mouth. “It’s… Listen, I just think we needa slow down a bit, you know?”

“Slow down?” you ask. A trill of panic laces down your spine. “Is it about…what I said?”

Alec doesn’t want to answer, but you both know then that you’ve hit the nail on the head. 

“I just need some space,” he says. “I think it’ll be better for both of us.”

“Really?” you ask. Your voice flattens, and hot tears well up in your eyes.

It threatens to undo him. Somehow, he’s able to hold firm in what he believes he has to do, in order to protect you. Even from himself.

Alec reaches for your cheek. He hesitates just slightly, but he drops a kiss on your forehead.

You don’t want to let him. You can’t help it though; you savor his touch. You feel his warm lips on your skin, and then he’s gone by the time you open your eyes.  

A few days later, you still feel like hell. You manage to reach your locker and you lean against it. Your stomach churns with nausea—the constant sign of your stress as you try to get through your morning.  

On the TV, some government agent is exposing a genetics company called Manticore. That it created “transgenic” subjects as genetically engineered soldiers, often using animal DNA. They escaped almost a year ago now.

They’re not human. They’re living among you. They’re dangerous, and you have a right to be scared.

You’re only half-listening, because the truth is, this sounds like a bunch of fearmongering bullshit, and you’re too tired to be all that alarmed. Humans are dangerous enough, as far as you’re concerned.

The government is probably trying to cover up something even more heinous by concocting this ridiculous story.

You rest your cheek against the cool metal of your locker and just stand there for a while in time in space. You don’t care much about the world around you, until Max comes into your line of vision. She touches your arm.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asks.

“I’m fine.” A vast overstatement, though you know that you aren’t convincing anyone.

You look up just in time to see Alec standing at his own locker. He’d been glancing at you and Max, but being caught by your gaze makes him turn away, closing his locker as he leaves.

Max’s lips press together. She returns her attention to you in thinly veiled concern.

“What happened exactly?” she asks.

“Max, I don’t know,” you confess. “Things were fine. They were good.” 

You let out a deep, exhausted breath.

Oh yeah, you haven’t been sleeping much lately either. 

“Deep in my gut, I have this feeling. Like he’s going through something,” you say. “Or he’s hiding something from me. He just won’t talk to me. Every time it feels like we’re headed somewhere good, solid, he pulls away. I can’t fucking do it anymore, Max. I just can’t take it.”

You slam your locker closed and try to get on with your day before your tears fall. Max sighs and watches you go.

She doesn’t know that you head to the bathroom and heave your breakfast into the toilet bowl, spilling what little you could keep down this morning.

You haven’t been sighted at Crash in weeks, but Alec comes here every night, Max notices. He drinks alone tonight, once again looking more woe is me than ever.

It boils her blood.

She takes a seat next to him and punches his arm with a heavy dose of her transgenic strength. Alec flinches with a cry of protest, but she just glares at him.

“Why are you doing this to her? To yourself?” she demands. 

Alec wants to glare at her, but he doesn’t have it in him. He just quirks his head and sips his drink. He doesn’t even know what kind of liquor this is, but the bartender promised it’s the strongest thing he has back there.

“Leave it alone, Maxie,” Alec says, as he takes a sip. Though strongest be damned, he’s slammed down four of these and he’s still not drunk. Ain’t that a bitch.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says.

“I don’t?” Max raises her brows. “You’re fucking with her head and her heart. And for what? So you can have a little pity party?”

Alec does glare at her this time. “You know what, why don’t you just leave me the fuck alone?”

“Not until you tell me,” she demands. “Why’re you pushing away someone who clearly cares about you? Not that I get why. If this selfish, pigheaded, asshole behavior is supposed to be charming, then maybe she’s better off without you.”

He slams down his glass hard enough for liquor to slosh out over his hand. 

“Don’t you get it?! That’s exactly it,” he hisses, low enough that only the two of them can hear. “When are you going to understand that we’re a threat to them? We’re being hunted every damn day. You think Ames White and his cult cronies’ll think twice about a little collateral damage?”

“Alec—”

“You think you and Logan are any different?” he adds. “Let me remind you, you were a danger to him even before a genetically engineered virus came into the picture.”

She’s angry, but he knows she can’t argue with logic. They both know that Alec is speaking from a place of experience. 

“So you’re just gonna break her heart?” she asks. “Again?”

Alec shakes his head and casts his gaze down into brown liquor. Max leans toward him with a steely glower. 

“You’re a coward,” she says, before she slips away. 

Alec wipes his wet hand on his jeans.

…Maybe she’s right, he thinks. You’ll probably end up regretting the day you ever met him, but at least you’ll be alive to hate him.

“Oh God,” you utter, a hand covering your mouth. 

You haven’t been to the doctor in several years, but you managed to scrape enough money together to afford this little test. It gave you a more definitive answer on why you’ve spent the last few weeks fighting sickness and fatigue in equal measure. 

How could this have happened? You were on birth control. What could possibly have…

You don’t know what possesses you to go hunting for the little round packet in the medicine cabinet. You examine its contents and confirm that you haven’t missed even one pill of your pharmacy-issued birth control.

On the bottom of the packet, however, you spy something small in the fine print: EXP – 02/2017.

Expired…THREE YEARS AGO?!  

Apparently, you can’t put it past pharmacies to sell outdated meds now.

You sit alone on your couch in silence for nearly an hour. You run down every scenario, every path you could possibly take and try to consider its most likely outcome.

Medical care is a joke nowadays, unless you're still part of the wealthy 1%. That also includes...termination.

Even you did try to find a way to do it, somehow scrounging up the money to end this, the thought alone makes your heart ache.

Alec is young, and so are you. You two had barely been together for six months before he basically broke up with you, and you're not even sure how he'll react when you tell him. (At this point, you don't have high hopes.)

And yet, it hurts. What you'd told Original Cindy was the truth; you want a family. You're tired of being alone, even though the two options laid out before you scare you in equal measure.

A thousand thoughts are still running through your mind, contradicting each other with brutal logic, versus what your heart tells you. But one decision is certain...

You need to talk to Alec first.

You wait until the morning at Jam Pony HQ, when you’ve settled your nerves enough to see Alec. 

He never shows up for work, even an hour into shift. Damn it.

Okay, you suppose you’ll have to do this another way. You grab your phone, and you call him. 

Thankfully, he picks up on the fourth ring. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you reply, a bit awkwardly. The two of you haven’t spoken in nearly a month. 

“What’s up?” He doesn’t sound like himself. He sounds guarded, almost hesitant.

“We need to talk, Alec.”

He blows out a sigh. “Look, I haven’t changed my mind.”

You swallow past the pain.

“I know," you dully reply. "It’s not about that, but this isn’t a conversation I want to have digitally.”

“...Okay,” he relents, with another sigh. He sounds a bit distracted. “Uh, I’m taking care of something right now, but I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you stop by my place after work?”

You nod. “Okay, I’ll meet you there.”

Of course, it’s hard to focus on your work after that. You wonder how many months you have until you can’t work anymore. Until you’ll have to fend for yourself…and for your child. 

With or without Alec, you plan to do whatever it takes.

So you do your best, as you always do, to get through your day. You fight exhaustion and nausea and anxiety with every delivery, but at the end of the day, you have a clipboard full of signatures and a clean docket.

You leave right at 7:00 p.m. to head over to Alec’s apartment. You use your spare key to unlock the door and find the apartment shrouded in darkness. You flip on the closest light switch before you turn to shut and lock the door behind you. 

The door pushes open abruptly. 

It knocks straight into you and throws you off your feet. You crash with a pained cry into a wooden table, knocking off a half-empty glass of whiskey that cuts into your arm when it breaks. 

A pair of strong hands take hold of you and haul you up, spinning you around. You stare up with wide eyes into the face of a man you think you’ve actually seen before. He’s tall, white, dark hair, piercing eyes.

On the news, you realize. You saw him on the news.

“Where is 494?” he demands to know.

You blink in confusion and fear. “What?”

The man rolls his eyes.

“Alec McDowell,” he says.

Your breath stills in your lungs.

“Why’re you looking for him?” you ask. “You…you work for the government.”

“That’s right.” His smile is thin. “It’s a federal matter. And I suggest you tell me what I want to know.”

His grip on your arm tightens enough to make you whimper.

“I don’t know where he is,” you blurt out. Mostly because it’s the truth.

He raises a brow. “He lives here, doesn’t he?” 

You refuse to answer, but the man lowers his gun and seats you forcefully on the couch. 

“Then we’ll wait.”

Minutes turn to an hour. Alec’s late—a fact you’re half relieved about, and half cursing him for. You turn to the man who holds you at gunpoint without even looking at you. Though you instinctively know that any attempts to run will be short-lived. 

His men wait by the door with guns at the ready. 

“Who are you?” you ask. 

The man turns his head and gives you a cold smile. “Agent White, at your service.”

“Okay, Agent White. Why are you after Alec?”

“Oh, I’ve been looking for him for a long time,” he says. 

You frown, with pursed lips. “Why? What do you think he’s done?”

“It’s not what he’s done. It’s what he is,” White says. “Him, and everyone like him.”

“What the fuck are you on about?” you snap.

White rolls his eyes. He lets out a sharp sigh before he stands. He grabs you up along with him. Fear churns inside you, tightening in your throat. 

“I have a better idea,” White says. “Instead of using you as leverage to make him come quietly, I think I’ll just let him walk in, nice and easy. He’ll find you gutted. On the floor. And then I’ll do the same to him.”

Frightened tears well up in your eyes when his grip moves and tightens on your jaw, like he’s thinking about breaking your neck. 

“Wait, please!” you plead. “I’m pregnant!”

White actually pauses, tilting his head. He smiles.

“Interesting.”

AN: Ames White has entered the chat...

EDIT (2-05-24): I made some edits here on the reader's thoughts of what she should do after her discovery. In hindsight, I realized I'd left out some aspects of the world. Specifically how access to medical care would influence her decision vs. what this particular character wants for herself.

Next Time:

“Hello, 494.” A man’s voice—one that Alec would know anywhere. It prickles his skin with unease and makes his blood boil all at once.

“Ames White.” Alec’s teeth grind. “What game are you playing now?”

“This isn’t a game. It’s business,” White claims. “I have something you want. How much are you willing to pay to make sure she stays alive?”

Alec forces himself to calm down, even though his pulse is racing.

“What do you want?”

“You. And 452. With no bullshit on your end,” the agent replies. “Or this girl is going to pay that price for you.”

Keep Reading: Part 4 (Finale!)

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@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog

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#Complications #Being Human #Part 3 #alec mcdowell #alec mcdowell x reader #alec mcdowell x you #alec mcdowell x female reader #smut #logan x max #alec mcdowell smut #max guevara #original cindy #logan cale #ames white #Dark Angel #Jensen Ackles characters #Jensen Ackles #zepskies writes

[saltygilmores]

Dance Marathon Episode-Part 9-The Bloody Finale. RIP Shane.

Now I know my readers have lost untold hours of sleep pondering the origin of all this Shane is Dead nonsense. Fret no more, my 4-6 regular readers. Fret no more. After her public dumping for the ages, Rory retreats to Money Laundering Bridge, where the soon to be homocidal maniac follows close behind (Shane's current whereabouts are unclear, but he won't let her get too far). A brief, gloomy conversation between Jess and Rory ensues, where it is established that Jess and Rory Like-Like each other and are comitting to not knowing a moment of peace or sexual intercourse for the next 6-8 months. Yippee. So, we are to believe that the thing that needs "taking care of" is presumably, ending his "relationship" with Shane. But a normal, not-murderer person could have said something like "I have to go talk to Shane." Or he would have not said anything to Rory because Shane was not even his girlfriend anyway, so who gives a crap? If we have just established that Rory and Jess have decided to make a go of this thing, it's a given that Shane is history. She's off like a prom dress. So why did he have to say it like that? What, exactly, has to be "taken care of"? You know what kind of people say things like that? People who are in the mob, before they erase someone. (but instead of "sleeping with the fishes", Shane will be sleeping with the swans.) On top of that, why are you using that absolutely bone-chilling tone of voice? And such a creepy Okuh, too. That's an okuh that will make your blood run cold. Also, that creepy way he's staring at Rory, like he's contemplating evil. You can see it in his eyes that the evil gears are turning in his evil brain. How convenient that after he says this Ms. Campbell is never seen or heard from again. RUN SHANE! RUN! Run as fast as your slutty little legs can carry you!

Shane Campbell B. 198? D. 2002 Shane Campbell was born sometime in the mid 80s to Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, who were those really cool kinda parents who let their daughter have boys in her bedroom and said things like "drinking is okay as long as you do it in the house". Until her untimely death, Ms. Campbell was employed by Stars Hollow Beauty Supply. She prided herself on being gainfully employed and sex-positive and being the creator of new words such as "bloaty". She was educated in the Stars Hollow school system, causing some of her detractors to believe that Ms Campbell did not know how ice was made. She had plans to attend cosmetology school and looked forward to a career in the beauty industry where she would have made more money and met way cooler people and had a lot more sex than other people who went to Yale instead. We will miss her spicy customer service, off the shoulder tops, low rise jeans, and love of tonsil hockey. RIP. I will remember you, will you remember me, don't your let your life pass you by...weep not for the memories... Jess departs the lake to locate his victim and comitt certain felonies and busy himself with cleaning up bodily remains. As she posed no real threat to his relationship with Rory, his motive for Taking Care of Shane remains unclear. He is just a blood thirsty maniac. God forbid a boy finds a hobby, right? He has a long night ahead of him. Rory and Lorelai return to the dance a few moments apart, where Rory's absence has disqualifed them and Kirk wins. Rory cries into Lorelai's arms over the loss of Butthead and the gaining of Jess The Mess. As Kirk circles the gym with his trophy, the Rocky theme song plays, which drowns out Shane's screams of terror from behind the school. With the same superpower that he utilized to abscond with 500 baseballs, Jess manages to drag Shane's lifeless body from the school and back to the lake and feeds her to the swans. The end.

#RIP Shane #we'll miss you queen #until you come back as a Swan and give your killer a rightful beaking #such a go getter #denise rewatches gilmore girls #gilmore girls season 3 #they shoot gilmores dont they #tsgdt #jess mariano #jess the killer #in the arms of the angel #may you find some comfort there #shane's obit has to be one of the silliest things ive ever written #at least I crack myself up

[parulite]

repost and rate your muse's traits out of 10 in each category !

COMPASSION: 9/10. Driven by a deep desire to alleviate others' suffering (when she isn't too wrapped up in her own head), Kiri chose the path and rites of a healer. Right now she mostly deals in physical ailments, but she hopes to build the skills of spiritual aid too.

BITTERNESS: 6/10. There's a general sense that she's carrying a lot of confusion and discontent. She feels estranged from her peers and even her family, and doesn't understand why she is just so different. Why it had to be her.

HAPPINESS: 4/10. Really going through it™ with the awkward teenage years, made much much worse by the re-arrival of the RDA and the destruction of so much of her home. She lost two dear friends; the shaman of songs who lived deep in the forest was killed by the inferno of the arriving ships, and in the months that followed the first ikran Kiri was bonded with was shot and killed by a SpecOps soldier (& that's really only the beginning...)

POLITENESS: 5/10. Generally knows her place and respects tradition and those with more experience than her, but isn't afraid to give a little lip and form her own opinions. Occasionally prone to nyeh nyeh nyeh and sticking her tongue out. Currently going through a little bit of a "everyone in my family is so embarassing" phase.

MORALITY: like... 8/10? I don't know. She has a set of beliefs she lives by and holds to them. But .. as things are changing around her, choices are getting harder, and she's pushed at these lines in the name of protecting and defending her loved ones. As well, I have.. a thought about that some of that... being able to hear and feel Eywa is driving her to make choices she would have shied from just a year ago. Which begs the questions of if they're her morals, or something else. Which sounds very scary to me.

PRIDE: 7/10. Working on lowish personal self esteem/ego, but has high value on her home, her family, her clan, her planet. Does not take kindly at all to insults and shaming; does not take these things silently, either. She will at least try to stand up for herself, but she's twice as active when standing up for/with others (especially her family. Especially Neteyam.)

HONESTY: 8/10. A little sneaking away here, a little keeps-things-to-herself there, but mostly honest about her choices. She aims to be reliable and trustworthy, someone people can come to, and in general just doesn't like to lie. Leaves a bad taste in the mouth.

BRAVERY: 5/10. There will be much worrying, and grumbling, and hesitance. Will notably step up much more directly when it comes to defending others, especially her siblings and, presumably, other/younger children. Otherwise, she'd much rather make peace and/or flee than fight.

RECKLESSNESS: 4/10. Fairly sensible on her own, a little absent minded sometimes but not particularly prone to risk taking. Also susceptible to following others (i.e. Lo'ak and Spider) into nonsense out of a reluctance to miss out, but it almost works out because then she can act as a voice of reason those situations and at least slow them down a little.

AMBITION: 3/10. Genuinely just wants to live a 'normal' life, a quiet life she feels she belongs to, in harmony with nature.

LOYALTY: 8/10. Bends her personal values for the sake of others.

LOVE: 6/10. Deeply emotional, but afraid to commit to it. She withholds herself a lot, often hiding behind a vague leave-me-alone attitude (that she, of course, secretly and silently wants people to ignore, and see her through it anyway. But only if they're going to really love her. You know how it is.)

SENSE OF FAMILY: 7/10. Very connected to her parents and siblings and loves them dearly. Also feels ostracized, being 'technically an orphan', and every now and then is afraid that she is not quite as much of her parents child as her siblings are, like there is somehow a difference between them and her that means she doesn't really count.

ATTRACTIVENESS: I...... Don't want to use a number in this instance? She doesn't strike me as having a high opinion of her own looks, but I don't think it's necessarily a point of focus for her. I do think, though, she's got a lot of features that could be considered more human-influenced, such as her four fingers and smaller nose, defined brows, and smaller canines. This probably effects others' opinions of her beauty, but I doubt (at least among her own clan) as much as she thinks it does.

AGILITY: 9/10. Mostly she likes to take her time and tends to sort of ...drift around, but when pressured or excited, she's light on her feet and difficult to catch. Notably, she's an incredibly quick climber, and excels at moving over both the forest floor and higher pathways among the branches. She's still learning & building her skillset but I imagine she's showing signs of this in the water, too.

#my name is hannah and i love to steal dash games and talk about my kids #echoing spirits 〈⋄〉 dash game. #a song for every moment 〈⋄〉 headcanons.

[celestiall0tus]

Miraculous Absolution - Chapter 7 - Revolution

Beginning || Previous || Next

            Alix stood behind the cashier counter at her job. She flipped through the latest hero tabloid as she waited for her shift to finish. She snorted at the nonsense of Chat Noir being a troubled kitten and the story it spun of having his pride wounded. She didn’t think he had any left at this point. She kept turning the pages past Carapace and Queen Bee, but stopped at Whisper, at Juleka.

            Alix sighed as she stared at Whisper. Juleka was quick to reveal herself to the rest of them after Marinette left. Alix wasn’t sure if Marinette knew. It had been a couple of months. Surely, she would have said something. Or was there nothing to say? Juleka was with them. They were all celebrating Juleka’s new job. They couldn’t hold her responsible like the other heroes, right? A part of her wanted to, but she couldn’t. It was Juleka, their friend and sister. It didn’t feel right.

            Alix sighed and flipped past the section with Whisper as it came back to Chat Noir. The photos of him looking longingly with his sad eyes. These articles spun a tale of the cat’s eye being caught by a mysterious admirer. She gagged at the article and closed the magazine. She tossed it into the trash. She plopped onto the counter and looked at the time. It was only 11:00PM.

            Alix groaned and banged her head on the counter. She let out a long sigh then heard a different sigh. She furrowed her brow and looked around. She figured she missed a customer but didn’t see anyone browsing the isles. She moved out from behind the counter and started towards the back. Nail clicks hit the tile that trailed after her. She turned and saw a wolf-like dog behind her.

            “How did you get in here? Did someone let you in?”

            The dog smiled. “I let myself in.”

            Alix’s eyes widened. “This is a dream. Or is it a nightmare?”

            The dog shifted and shrunk into a wolf kwami. “Neither. This is all real.”

            “Woah! What are you? Are you a kwami thing that Mari told me about?”

            “Correct! I’m Fang, kwami of freedom.”

            Alix grinned. “Ah, yeah! Now we’re talking. So, you’re gonna make me a hero?”

            Fang bowed her head. She held out her hands. A light glowed and morphed into a chain ring bracelet. She handed it to Alix, who took it and put it on.

            “Now, pup, there are some things you need to know. First, your powers. You get a passive and a main power. Your passive you can use as many times as you please and that is teleportation.”

            “Seriously? So, I can teleport around freely and as many times as I please? No limit whatsoever?”

            “Yup! However, your main power won’t be like that. You’ll have a few uses of this per transformation, then I need to recharge. Preferably with biscuits, but I’m not too terribly picky, except for when I am. Anyway, each use will last about five minutes.”

            “Ok. So, what is the power?”

            “Defiance. With it, you can defy the rules of reality. It could be something as simple as defying gravity to refusing death itself.”

            Alix’s eyes lit up as she looked at the jewel. Her excitement dampened as thoughts entered her mind. What if she had this a year ago? With this power, could she have saved her best friend? Could she have saved her brother? If she could defy reality, could she turn back time to those moments? Could she still save them?

            “What’s wrong, pup?” Fang asked.

            “With your power, could I… go back in time?”

            Fang snickered. “I can. You can’t.”

            “What? Why?”

            “Tried that once. Nasty business. Made an agreement with Tikki to not allow my holders that freedom. Basically, you can go forward in time into the future, but you can’t return to the past. Understood?”

            Alix huffed. “That’s not fair.”

            Fang tsked. “Pup, pup, pup. Freedom isn’t changing what has been done but fighting for something new. We look to history, see the injustices, and fight for liberation. For freedom! And with me, we can fight for that new world. With me, you can liberate the city, the world. Be the force of change.”

            Alix looked at Fang, then the jewel. The disappointment lingered that she couldn’t change the past. She’d give anything to have Kim and Jalil back. For all of them to have their lost loved ones back, but the power wasn’t meant to be theirs, was it? Instead, they had to fight for a better future. They had to liberate themselves of their villain. They had to take a proper stand and that starts today.

            “What do I do?”

            “Say, ‘Fang, howl,’ to transform. To de-transform, say, ‘Fang, silence.’”

            Alix grinned. “Fang, howl!”

            Fang vanished into the chain ring bracelet and transformed Alix. Her work uniform became a crop black leather jacket with rips in the sleeves, a gray strapless bra, gray ripped jeans with fishnets underneath, and black and two-toned gray platform wedged boots with the toes exposed. Her wild hair split at the ends and was adorned with a pair of black, pierced wolf ears. A massive wolf tail fluffed out behind her that brushed the ground. A black and red-studded collar adorned her neck while a pair of gray fingerless gloves covered her hands. She caught sight of her reflection in the windows and at her now red, glowing eyes.

            Alix’s jaw dropped seeing herself. She turned a few times as she admired her wild outfit. She paused to look around the store, then outside. She grinned and focused on the empty sidewalk across the street. She took a step forward and teleported to the sidewalk. She gasped and laughed. She teleported around the street, up on buildings, and in the air. Adrenaline coursed through her that mixed with thrill and excitement. This was a freedom she could only imagine in her dreams as of recent. The pure intoxicating nature as she moved as she wished with no one to dictate how she should conduct herself.

            Alix grinned as she lost herself to the feeling. She ran, leapt, and teleported through the city. She laughed as she whooped and hollered, even letting loose a few howls. This was everything she had missed from her teen years before this hell began. Now it was hers again, and it could be everyone else’s. She had that power now. She would stand by the ladybug and liberate the people. She would be their hope of salvation. She would be the promise of liberation. She was their freedom, and it started this night.

~~

            Volpina ran through the streets as she glanced through her illusions. She had witnessed the activation of a rogue holder, the wolf. She had grabbed her camera and began her hunt. She had to see this holder for herself and if they were friend or foe. She ran around the city, careful to avoid Chat Noir’s team while searching for the wolf. Fear crept up in her that grew and grew until she felt the ground violently tremble.

            Volpina hid as a goliath of a flesh golem barreled through buildings. She gasped at the hundreds of people that plummeted towards their deaths. She moved to save who she could when she heard a howl. She blinked and the people were saved with the monster several blocks away, driven into the street.

            Volpina rushed to the monster in hopes of catching the wolf. She paused as she eyed the wild wolf holder atop the golem. She jumped down onto it and recorded the wolf. The wolf’s ears twitched and she turned to Volpina.

            “You. You’re recording this, right?”

            Volpina nodded.

            “Good. I have a message for all of Paris. For the charlatan, Chat Noir.”

            “Who are you?” Volpina asked in her distorted voice.

            “I am Fera, the wolf of freedom. On my name, I make a promise to all of Paris and a threat to Chat Noir.”

            Fera growled, then howled as she slammed her foot on the crystal on the golem. It shattered and released the Akuma. She grabbed it and held it up. She took a breath, then ripped the Akuma in half. It dissolved along with the golem’s body. Volpina gawked as she kept the focus on Fera.

            “The Ladybug is coming. I am her first messenger. I am the answer to your demands for liberation. I am the promise that freedom will be yours before long. The relief that you no longer need to rely on Chat Noir moving forward. Deliverance and salvation are at hand. Rejoice, as an end is finally at hand.”

            Fera placed a fist over her heart, bowed, then vanished.

            Volpina stared out in disbelief. The ladybug was on her way. They would finally be saved. It would finally be over. Tears fell behind her mask as she laughed. She pivoted and faced a small crowd.

            “Freedom will finally be ours! Rejoice! The cat is no longer our only hope. The ladybug is coming! Salvation is at hand!” Volpina cried out.

~~

            Whisper blinked back to her apartment. Bunelle sat beside her.

            “Is it her?” Bunelle asked.

            “It is,” Whisper said.

            “What do we do? With Fera being Alix, do we continue to help Chat Noir? Or should we help our girl out?”

            “Both.”

            “Both?”

            “Yes. We keep doing what Chat Noir wants, but feed information to Fera. That way we keep our end of the deal, but also help our friend.”

            Bunelle bounced. “Oh, that’s perfect! You have the best ideas, Jule!”

            “But no mentioning it to Chat Noir. At all.”

            “Speaking of, did you still want to sign him up for counseling? I’ll be working independently here shortly.”

            “Luka suggested we don’t. In fact, once he’s back, he wants to meet Chat Noir himself.”

            Bunelle’s face lit up. “Luka’s going to be a therapist? That’s amazing! Oh, what if we start a family business when this is all done? The city sure will need all the therapists it can get after we wrap this all up.”

            Whisper chuckled. “You make sure to bring that up to him. I’m sure he’d love the idea.”

            Bunelle squealed and hopped up. She bounced around the apartment as she prattled on with her ideas. Whisper smiled as she listened on, hoping that the end was truly in sight now.

~~

            Alix returned to her apartment late into the night. She stayed out a little longer to ensure no new monsters popped up. She had run across Chat Noir’s team, but they kept their distance. Though she hadn’t seen Chat Noir himself. Disappointment still tore through her at that. She wanted nothing more than to put that stupid cat in his place.

            Alix took long strides in the dark when the hallway light came on. She froze as she stared at Ondine. She winced at the fear in Ondine’s eyes that gave way to relief. Tears poured from Ondine’s eyes as she rushed up to her.

            “Oh, thank goodness! You weren’t home when you were supposed to be, and I was worried! Did you come across a monster? Are you ok?”

            Alix grinned. “Oh, I’m more than ok. Take a look.”

            Ondine scrunched up her face as Fang materialized. She squeaked and jumped back.

            “What is that?” Ondine asked.

            “I’m a kwami,” Fang answered.

            “What’s kwami? What does it do?”

            “It gives you powers. Check this out. Fang, howl!”

            Fang disappeared into the chain ring bracelet and transformed Alix into Fera.

            Ondine’s jaw dropped. “Alix, you’re like one of the heroes.”

            “I’m better than them. I get the job done,” Fera remarked.

            “Did you… did you run into a monster tonight?”

            “I did, and you know what? I took it down! No casualties once I got involved.”

            Hope flared in Ondine’s eyes. “Truly? No one died?”

            “Well, I can’t say that no one died, but I know I was able to save everyone that I saw was about to die. And I was able to destroy the monster without the assistance of that stupid cat.”

            “How? I thought only Chat Noir could destroy the monsters.”

            “Not once I showed up. Fang gives me the power to defy reality itself. No rules apply to me. Well, mostly.”

            “Mostly? What are the exceptions?”

            “Well, I’m not completely sure what the full list is, but I know for sure that I can’t turn back time. Or, at least, I can’t go backwards in time.”

            Ondine opened her mouth, then shut it immediately. Her eyes misted over as new tears fell. Fera took her hand.

            “I wish I could. Perhaps I could have prevented all of this. Perhaps we all wouldn’t be in this situation.”

            Ondine squeezed Fera’s hand. “I do too. We wouldn’t have lost all of them. We wouldn’t have lost Kim.”

            “I know, but there is one thing we can do.”

            “We?”

            “Yes. The ladybug is coming, and I know she plans to give you a jewel and kwami too. We’ll fight together.”

            Ondine’s eyes widened. “Really? We’ll fight together as heroes?”

            “That’s right. And we’ll take down Papillon. Make him face justice.”

            “Damn right we will. We’ll make him pay, together.”

            Fera smiled and de-transformed. She clasped her right hand in Ondine’s right. They lifted up their arms with their tattoos facing up. Alix’s was a red feather while Ondine’s was an anchor. Together, their arms read: “I’ll be your wings… and I’ll be your anchor.”

            “To the ends of the earth,” Alix said.

            “To the very grave itself,” Ondine continued.

            “To the highway to Heaven and Hell.”

            “No force will keep us apart.”

            “Together, forever,” Alix and Ondine said together as they embraced.

            “Come along. We should get some sleep. It’ll be busy here on forward,” Alix said.

            Ondine nodded. “I’m ready to bring this all to an end.”

            “Me too. Me too.”

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #au #miraculous au #alternate universe #mlb fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #alix miraculous #ml alix #alix #miraculous alix #alix kubdel #fera #absolution au #absolution #mlb ondine #miraculous ondine #ondine

[astriiformes]

HeroForge added Pride flags and uh

#now THIS is some pride month nonsense i can get behind #not that i have any reason to buy a physical mini for erwyn but #i do love a good character creator all the same #friendship campaign

[phoenixyfriend]

Rex and Anakin Raise a Family: Part Four

Part One, Part Two, Part Three – Chrono

Warnings: grief, resentment, lactation, animal death

----

For all that Anakin had said he could handle the twins, Rex still takes one in the sling as they go into town. They don't have a hoverpram yet, and neither of them could figure out a way to fold the fabric to securely hold the babies' heads up. Anakin takes Luke, and Rex takes Leia, and they ignore the whispers that still follow them.

The General keeps just behind his shoulder when they get to the hardware shop that carries the closest paint they can find in such a small town. It's not meant for armor, really, but speeder paint will do the trick for now. Rex's hands shake as he picks out the shades he needs, and the young Rodian at the register almost asks about it.

The issue isn't pressed.

They make their way back to the cottage, and Leia starts fussing fifteen minutes past the town's edge. Anakin looks like he wants to offer to take her back, but Rex is fine. He can comfort her. He can--

Anakin takes the paint, floating it along in the air before them, freeing Rex's hands to focus on the infant strapped to his chest.

"I'll feed her as soon as we get back," Anakin says, low and calm. "She's a little hungry."

Pacifier, then. They're only a few minutes out, by now. She can wait for them to get back to where exchanging the twins won't involve juggling.

Rex feels eyes on him, looks up and sees the soft, quiet smile on his General's face, and ducks his head back to Leia.

She glares up at him as well as a newborn can, sucking angrily on the paci in her mouth. Rex has no idea if she's actually upset or if her face just naturally follows such an expression, but it's adorable nonetheless. He hums to her, nonsense without words.

He's never learned lullabies; they picked up drinking songs in the field and from local soldiers, from their Jedi, war songs from their trainers, pop songs from the radio. A few learned lullabies, those who loved children and wanted their own, one day, brothers like Waxer who would have adopted Numa in a heartbeat if it had been an option.

He wants to learn lullabies. He wants to be able to sing children's songs to these tiny, helpless lives he holds in his hands, day in and day out. He wants to learn Mandalorian songs, real ones, not just battle chants and mourning melodies. He wants to be able to raise them with the childhood he didn't have.

"Rex? Door's open."

He looks up, and Anakin's standing on the porch, pulling the keys from the lock and gesturing in with his head. Rex hadn't even realized he'd stopped walking, subconsciously waiting for the blockage of the door to be handled. It's easier to focus on the children.

The paint gets sent to the backyard--trapped fumes wouldn’t be good for the children--and Rex lays Leia down in her crib. Anakin urges him to the backyard, says I’ll handle it about anything Rex uses to delay, and it’s only a few minutes later that Rex finds himself sitting on the grass, armor spread across a sheet of disposable flimsi, paints and brushes at the ready. He doesn’t quite remember setting it up, but he must have.

Anakin joins him, a twin in each arm and the Force laying out a picnic blanket. Leia’s nursing, swaddled up but content to suckle, and Luke seems happy to doze when Anakin sets him down on the cotton gingham. It’s a warm day, with a light breeze, and the babies are where the wind won’t carry the paint fumes.

“I’m here if you need me,” Anakin promises, though his attention drifts immediately to his daughter.

Rex begins to paint.

----

His remembrances are endless.

Every brother he’s ever known, every general he’s met, every small commander and random civilian, everyone he loved and knew. He lights a pyre, sings under his breath and tries not to break in a way that can’t be patched together. He mourns the tubies and cadets, the Jedi younglings, names he never learned and now never would.

Anakin gets Japor from somewhere, carves it whenever he’s too jittery to sleep and the twins are asleep. Rex recognizes a few symbols, like the open circle fleet, like Fives’ helmet eel, like Ahsoka’s markings. There are more, though, that are wholly unfamiliar, things he thinks are born of desert sands and binary suns, rough and painful and deeper in Anakin’s heart than even the Jedi.

He asks about the one for Fives, when he sees it.

He hides his anger.

Explanations, first.

“It’s an apology,” his General tells him, eyes distant. “I should have listened to him. I didn’t. The carvings are regrets, broken trust... that sort of thing. I’m part of why he died, and in that, part of why the rest is gone. He and his memory deserve a place of honor.”

Rex considers that, and accepts it.

Fives deserves an apology. The General recognizes that.

The General recognizes that he fucked up.

This is a good thing.

Rex lets go of his anger, still curled tight to his chest after months, as best he can.

He’s not very good at it, but he can try.

Luke starts crying, and Rex gets up to warm a bottle.

----

“I need to stay close to home until the twins are a little older,” Rex says. Teskarim, the woman at the childcare store, tilts her head to encourage him to continue. “I’m... I’ve never been anything but a soldier, and nobody here needs security services, but I can hunt. Do you know if there’s any kind of licenses required, or lists of which animals are legal hunt and which are endangered?”

“I... don’t,” she says, chewing her bottom lip. “But I think the butcher’s shop can probably point you in the right direction.”

Damn. He’d been hoping he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone new today.

“Thanks,” he sighs, and shells out some of the local currency for more formula.

----

The butcher has answers, and preferences. Rex isn’t much of a trapper, but he’s a hell of a shot, and decent enough scout and tracker. He listens to what there is to hear, and mentally takes all the notes he can. There aren’t any licenses needed in this hemisphere, but there are legally-defined hunting seasons for different creatures. The butcher knows when the optimal times of day are, which parts of the nearby forest and mountains are best to stake out, and so on.

Rex tells Anakin about his plan. He gets a slow blink in response, a cringe in what he thinks is guilt, and an offer to meditate for the best direction to take when he goes out. He accepts the offer in the spirit its meant, and sets out the next morning with the expectation that he may need to spend a few nights out under the leaves and stars.

The calm and quiet are their own kind of comfort. He’s loyal to Anakin, and he already loves the twins, but there’s a part of him that needs to be away from natborns right now. Anakin was a Jedi, a general, and fought in the metaphorical trenches with the rest of them, but he wasn’t a brother.

They grieve many of the same people, but they do not grieve the same way.

Rex needs the solitude. Not forever, not even for very long, but he needs it.

It takes two days, but he finds one of the in-season creatures, a creature shaped much like an Alderaan deer, but larger, and with longer fur. It’s darker in color, too, and he gives it a bit of time to wander about until he can be sure it’s a male, and he’s not about to leave some fawns without a mother. The shot is clean, and it doesn’t take him very long to tie it up and sling it over his shoulders to bring back to town.

The trek back takes hours, and the creature on his back is a pain to carry, but it’s almost worth the looks he gets from the civvies. Eyes bulge out the sockets at the sight of him, and he’s glad his helmet hides his smirk. He’s Kamino stock, hardened by over three years on the front lines, and there’s a pride in how easy the physical things are for him. It’s not impossible for a natborn to carry this kind of creature this far without help, but it’s uncommon.

He kind of likes the attention, now that it doesn’t come with the many prejudices that being a clone always had.

Anakin meets him at the butcher’s, one twin on his chest and the other on his back.

Seems he’s found a solution to that.

“Here to help me barter a fair payment?” Rex asks, and gets a too-charming grin in response.

“Well, I’ve been doing it most of my life,” Anakin says, cheery in a way that feels pasted on. “And I’ll have a trick to know if we’re being cheated.”

It’s a solid response, but Rex doesn’t like it. He takes note of the bags under Anakins eyes. “Have you been sleeping, sir?”

“Twins,” the man himself says. “And don’t call me ‘sir,’ Rex, we’ve been over this.”

“You need to sleep, General.”

Anakin pouts at him, probably because of the title. “I can handle two days alone, Captain.”

Rex rolls his eyes and sidles through the entrance of the butcher’s shop.

They’ve got this.

#Rexwalker #Captain Rex #Anakin Skywalker #Skywalker Twins #Luke Skywalker #Leia Organa #past Anidala #Phoenix Posts #Rex and Anakin Raise a Family #star wars #the clone wars #time travel #I have a couple tumblr-based ongoing fics but this one... meanders

[ahemkara]

Brimming Knowledge

Inspired by the lore on the Imperious Sun shell where Rhulk gets handsy with a Ghost, I wrote this fic about my Warlock OC getting manhandled by him. I have no excuse. Anyway, this takes place after Rhulk was killed the first time, but has since regenerated back to life. Not sure if I’ll consider this fic canon in my Warlock’s story, but I had fun with it. This interaction isn’t really meant to be romantic, but you can imagine it as whatever you want. This will be posted elsewhere at some point and I’ll edit this post with links and stuff. Enjoy!

Btw, this fic isn’t inherently explicit or anything, but uh, I don’t know how comfortable I am with the idea of a child reading and interacting with it :/

Now also on Archive of Our Own!

Word count: 3K

Through the Scorn-infested bog lies a path to the Throne World’s sunken Pyramid. Almost six months ago, a group of six Lightbearers fought their way through it and killed the minion of Darkness within. One of those Lightbearers has returned to the bog numerous times since then, hoping to find a way back in, his reasons his own. But the Pyramid has stayed still and silent. The door once opened to them has remained shut. Until today.

One would think that immortal and ageless beings have better things to worry about than the flow of conversation and awkward pauses. That said, Lucian has spent the last few minutes of the uncomfortable silence between him and his host by viewing the encased creatures decorating the walls. He peers closer in an attempt to see the face in the resin, but finds it difficult to see details through the material.

The Warlock glances over his shoulder at the towering shape in the middle of the room. Rhulk's gaze is firmly placed on Lucian, watching his every move. When the Disciple had begun his “tour” to present his conquests to Lucian, he had planted his feet on the floor, choosing to walk instead of float. Lucian had wondered whether it was to conserve energy. He doubted Rhulk did it as a sign of respect. Despite choosing to stand instead of float, the menacing being still towered over the Lightbearer.

"It's quite the collection," Lucian finally says, breaking the silence. He does not intend much meaning behind the words, but currently finds the silence more unnerving than whatever cryptic Darkness nonsense Rhulk could offer him.

The display before him is macabre, but one that is well cared for and organized. Through their first excursion through the Pyramid, the group of Lightbearers had ventured past hundreds of such slabs, each one clearly laid out for the viewing pleasure of the Pyramid’s resident.

"Exquisite, certainly. The final act of service from these lesser beings. My permittance of it in the form of this gallery, a kindness. Everything is where it should be, with room for so many more." Rhulk looks past Lucian to the row of slabs and puffs out his chest. The pride he has in his work is clear from his voice.

Lucian is about to give into his curiosity and ask more about the creature-- no, the people Rhulk has encased to be viewed like an exhibit. But before he can open his mouth, the Disciple reaches out a hand in gesture and speaks:

"Approach."

Lucian hesitates and thinks. Every moment he spends inside the Pyramid he is in danger. At this point, no amount of distance could save him if Rhulk were to attack. Lucian had voluntarily left behind his weapons to show he did not come back for another fight, or another kick in the back. He was lucky to keep his spine intact last time. Still, every step he has taken since entering again has surely been a terrible mistake. What harm could there be in a few more?

So, Lucian closes the distance between them, feigned confidence in his steps, craning his face up to keep eye contact with his host.

Then, without saying a word, Rhulk leans forward and reaches towards Lucian, who instinctually lifts his arms in defense. The Disciple grabs onto the Warlock’s arm and straightens himself, picking up the Lightbearer in the process like he weighs nothing.

"What the--!" Lucian lets out a panicked yell as his feet leave the ground. He barely has time to consider whether he is under attack.

Rhulk leans back and begins to float once more. He falls backwards like sitting down and hovers in the air like slouching on an invisible chair, legs crossed. He lifts his little guest higher and finally drops Lucian on his lap, releasing his hold on his arm.

Lucian instinctually settles to ride Rhulk's thigh, dumbfounded. He clamps his legs to not fall off and leans on his hands for balance. When he feels solid muscle against his palms, Lucian realizes Rhulk's body does not feel purely organic. Against his skin, it feels partly like metal, but somehow still alive. The vascular tendons on his body shift as he settles and the collar around his neck is raised a little higher. 

Lucian looks up to find Rhulk staring at him, his featureless face unreadable. He gulps and admits to himself that Rhulk looks even more intimidating from close by. Despite this feeling of fear and unease gathering in his stomach, he braves himself to ask:

"What the hell are you doing?"

Lucian is not a man to cast his pride aside and let others walk all over him or toss him around like a toy. He did not come back to be treated like this.

"My encounters with your kind have been tragically limited. I will know you, heretic," Rhulk answers, his voice booms and rumbles from his whole being, filling the chamber they are in.

Without saying anything more and without asking for permission, he lifts his hand towards Lucian’s head, who once again raises his arms to shield himself, risking his balance in the process. His position on Rhulk's thigh shifts as he pushes against Rhulk's hand.

Lucian feels a low rumble emanating from the Disciple’s core. For a moment, the frills of his collar seem to sharpen.

"Had I the intent to kill you, you would have died as soon as you entered this place and a thousand times after," Rhulk says, almost insulted.

Lucian does not doubt his words, but they explain nothing.

"Then what are you doing?" Lucian spits out and looks at Rhulk's hand, which hovers in the air.

"As I told you, I intend to know you. Indulge me for the sake of knowledge,” he says, “Are you not among the wisest of your kind?"

Lucian feels himself slowly sliding down Rhulk's leg and is forced to lean on his hands for support again. Rhulk reaches for the back of Lucian’s head and lifts his long braid, sliding his thumb over the plait. Lucian remains still and silent, preparing to react to any sudden moves of aggression.

Rhulk reaches the end of the braid and holds on to the band keeping it intact. He pulls it off and the braid begins to unravel over Lucian’s shoulder. Rhulk unravels the silky locks loose between his long fingers. Lucian looks at the hand playing with his hair and stifles a shudder. Rhulk notices. A wave of movement cycles the frill around his neck.

From his hair, Rhulk swiftly moves a finger beneath Lucian’s chin and tilts his face up.

Face full of suspicion and brows furrowed, Lucian holds his breath, peering back at the multiple pairs of eyes on him, waiting for what happens next.

Rhulk lifts his other hand and brings it to the patch over Lucian’s right eye. Lucian has half a mind to try to stop him, which Rhulk seems to anticipate.

"Show me," he orders.

Lucian remains still as the large hand wipes the patch from his eye. Beneath is revealed a pale, irisless eye, with a torn, asymmetrical pupil, sitting behind ruined and loose eyelids. A useless thing and needlessly eye catching.

After a moment, Rhulk asks:

"Does it see?"

Lucian averts his gaze and gives a short but honest answer:

"Shapes and shadows."

A thoughtful hum rumbles in Rhulk's chest. The Warlock wonders if he made similar sounds earlier when Lucian stood too far away to hear them. Now he can not only hear them, but feel them, as well. 

Rhulk holds Lucian’s head and tilts it from left to right. He lifts Lucian’s hair out of the way to see his pierced ears and tugs at his cheek for a glimpse of teeth.

Lucian thinks about his current situation and considers it absurd. He would laugh if he did not have to worry about the temper of his host. Even if Rhulk had not yet been aggressive towards him, he could still decide to twist Lucian’s head clean off his shoulders.

Still, he finds it humorous to be examined like this and considers whether curiosity is perhaps a trait Rhulk shares with him. A moment of learning, amusing to both of them. Until--

Rhulk moves his hands lower. He holds on to the lapel of Lucian’s coat, then tugs it over and off his shoulders. The act catches Lucian completely off guard.

He manages to let out a surprised “Wait—” before Rhulk speaks over him, anticipating a question.

"You hide yourself beneath cloth and metal. I wish to see you. Show me,” he orders, still pulling down at the coat, which has now reached Lucian’s elbows.

Lucian blinks at the implication. His heart beats loud and heavy, and heat gathers at his cheeks. His mouth hangs open until he clears his throat and says:

"I could bring you a book on human anatomy... should apply to us Awoken as well."

Rhulk barely considers Lucian’s offer before giving his answer.

"The pages of a book do not compare to the feeling of flesh and bone in your hands." There is an aura of excitement in his voice, which Lucian does not appreciate.

Rhulk's fingers find the clasps of Lucian’s chest plate. With a quick motion they spring unlocked, and the plate becomes loose. Rhulk slides a finger underneath it and pulls it off Lucian’s body. He only looks at it for a second before letting it drop to the floor with a hollow clang.

Lucian swallows. He's starting to feel as defenseless as he is. Not that the chest plate would have offered him much protection here anyway, only the illusion of it. In any case, the illusion is fading.

Without wasting time, Rhulk's finger dives down the collar of Lucian’s button-up shirt, his long nail sliding against his neck, causing the hairs on the back of Lucian’s neck to stand up. Rhulk tugs at the buttons in a sorry attempt to open them.

Despite his perilous situation, Lucian finds his voice to utter: 

"You'll just break them." 

Without hesitating, Rhulk answers:

"So be it."

The possibility of having his shirt ruined seems to pull Lucian from his trance. He considers the possibility of preventing Rhulk from simply doing whatever he wants, but finds his chances slim. It leaves him with very few options, so he chooses the one least likely to get him killed.

"Wait, wait," he says and pushes away Rhulk's hands, "I'll just do it myself."

Lucian reaches for the buttons of his shirt and undoes the highest one. He might be dealing a devastating blow to his own dignity, but he’ll be damned before he’s sent stomping back through the bog with his clothes in tatters. He’d never hear the end of it from his ghost, either. As the thought enters his mind, he quickly wonders what Iriah could be doing at this moment. Whatever danger she might currently be in, at least she’s not here to see this, Lucian thinks.

Rhulk waits with what little patience he has, watching Lucian’s fingers stumble with the buttons. He recognizes an act of submission where he sees one. It pleases him greatly.

Lucian undoes a third button, and then a fourth. His breathing is uneven and his hands tremble slightly. He hopes Rhulk hasn't noticed, but is certain he has.

Lucian is not a man to fear the unknown. He would dive headfirst into danger and certain death purely for the experience, as he has on multiple occasions before. Even when they first stormed the Pyramid together as a group mere months ago, he was prepared to face death and fates worse than it just for a glimpse inside.

But this is different. It's humiliating. Still, a part of him feels enticed by the thought of "new" and "unknown". This whole experience certainly fits that description. His own curiosity demands he stay, even if he doubts Rhulk would let him go in the first place. Lucian wants to know what happens next; he needs to. Even if it’s unpleasant and embarrassing. Even if--

"Continue," Rhulk's voice booms.

Lucian swallows and reaches for the next button. Even if he is making a fool out of himself.

One button at a time, his pale chest and stomach become exposed. He tries to control his breathing and to keep his expression neutral, but knows his façade is as unconvincing as a Hunter in the Vanguard. 

And just like that, he has run out of buttons.

"Remove it," he hears the order.

In this state, Lucian can't even bring himself to look up in the Disciple’s eyes. He keeps his head low, hoping it would hide the blush on his cheeks. He slides his arms out of his coat and tugs his shirt down his shoulders, letting both fall away behind him.

The chilly air of the Pyramid brings goosebumps to Lucian’s skin. He forces his muscles to relax, not allowing himself to appear shivering, be it from fear or the cold. Is he afraid? No, he wouldn’t say that, he couldn’t admit it. 

He feels like he could drown in the silence surrounding them, waiting for Rhulk’s next move or order.

Lucian flinches at the sudden touch to his back. Two large hands reach him and place themselves against his spine, fingertips digging into the groove, nails scratching against his skin.

"Planning on adding me to your collection?" Lucian lets out a nervous chuckle. He knows he is being studied.

Rhulk lets out a faint thoughtful hum.

"Perhaps when you expire," he answers.

Lucian doesn't know what to say, but he does not interpret Rhulk’s answer as a threat. Not as an immediate threat, at least. But while the idea of one day being mantled on the wall among the hundreds displeases him greatly, he realizes it is a possible outcome. Perhaps not for tonight, but after the Witness reaches Sol. He imagines a whole gallery dedicated to deceased Guardians encased like those surrounding him, the civilizations that long came and ended before them. In his mind’s eye, he sees familiar faces peering through the resin with dead eyes. For some reason, the image is very clear in his mind.

Lucian’s concerned thoughts are interrupted by the shifting of the hands on his back.

Rhulk's touch is firm, but not painful. Like a doctor examining a patient, or a scientist a subject. The Disciple seems to know what he seeks, pressing at the muscle under the skin. Lucian can't help but wonder if he is the first alive specimen Rhulk has studied like this. Or whether they had all, as Rhulk put it, expired.

The hands reach up to Lucian’s shoulders, thumbs sliding over his collar bones. It makes Lucian jump and straighten his posture.

"Are you becoming enraged?" Rhulk asks, faint amusement in his voice.

Lucian lifts his gaze in surprise, as if Rhulk's expressionless face would tell him something.

"What?" he stammers.

Rhulk lifts a hand to gesture towards Lucian’s face and answers:

"The colorization of your skin has changed to a more crimson shade. Are you enraged?"

Lucian would laugh at the question if he did now feel himself change to be a few shades redder.

"…It's not that," he mumbles and lowers his gaze.

"Ah! Then it is shame," Rhulk exclaims proudly like he's made a discovery. "To see my killer in such state, how exquisite," he continues.

Lucian is fully convinced the Disciple is toying with him now, if not this whole time. But would such a powerful being truly resort to poking at him just for a reaction? Well, why not? After all, it is a pastime Lucian himself takes part in from time to time. The feeling of superiority it gives him is sure to brighten his day. But surely someone like Rhulk is above such behavior, Lucian thinks. At least, that’s what he hopes.

"Getting undressed like this would make anyone uncomfortable," Lucian states, his displeasure clear in his face.

After a moment of contemplation, Rhulk speaks:

"You see me as I am, and you have seen me undone. I will do the same. Speak to me not of comfort."

Lucian considers the meaning behind the words as Rhulk's hands slide down to his chest.

A hand lingers above Lucian’s heart, completely still and pressed firmly against his skin, feeling the beat of the heart within. After a moment Rhulk hums, seemingly pleased, and moves down to Lucian’s sides. His fingers press deeper to feel the gaps between his ribs, following the rows of bone back to the spine.

Lucian fights to stifle the shudders and convulsions that overcoming his body. He damns himself for being ticklish. A quality of his that has rarely gotten the chance to make itself present.

Rhulk’s keen eyes notice every move and every shudder. Gentle waves of movement flutter through his collar. He feels Lucian’s nails dig into his thigh.

Rhulk moves his hands lower to Lucian’s hips and pushes his fingers into the flesh there. The Warlock lets out an uncontrolled gasp of breath when one of Rhulk's fingers disappears beneath the waistband of his pants. Another finger slips under the belt around his waist and give it a tug.

Reflexively, Lucian grabs onto Rhulk's wrists and shifts his position on his thigh. If he was blushed before, it is much worse now. He attempts to stammer out a response, but Rhulk speaks first.

"Remove it," Rhulk commands with full authority, but there is also something else there.

Wide-eyed, Lucian stares up at his seemingly unfazed host, but the now slightly erratic movement of Rhulk's collar catches his eye. It contrasts against his otherwise still frame. Is that… excitement? 

Lucian’s thoughts are tangled with each other. What is he supposed to say now? He sits so still he has stopped breathing, gaze fixed on the numerous eyes keenly on him.

"Show me."

The order thunders trough the room once again, this time with audible impatience. It roars in Lucian’s ears like an avalanche and leaves a sinking feeling in his stomach. There are no words or clever quirks left in him. Would it even matter? After all, he knows the Disciple won’t ask again. What was it he was worried about before? Something about his clothes being in tatters.

The towering Disciple maintains brutal eye contact, giving his guest one more moment to consider his next actions. He won’t soon forget the look on his killer’s face or his shivering frame. To him, this will be a cherished memory.

A moment of learning, still amusing to one of them.

#oh boy what do i tag this with #destiny #destiny 2 #destiny 2 rhulk #vow of the disciple #destiny fanfiction #destiny 2 fanfiction #rhulk destiny #destiny oc #my writing #brimming knowledge #uhhh #guardian x rhulk #even if it's not really #first time posting my writing btw hope it doesn't suck #if it does don't @ me

[bellakitse]

To Love is to Know You

“Carlitos got hurt at work,” she whispers, her face pale and frightened. “He got shot, and they are rushing him to the hospital.”

+

When Carlos gets hurt on the job, his parents find out about the important parts of his life he’s been keeping from them, mainly the man he’s in love with.

Gabriel Reyes' POV

*there is accidental outing in this since this isn’t how Carlos planned on telling his parents.

6.3k

They’ve settled in for the night and are in the middle of watching a movie their son recommended when the phone rings.

“Carlos really likes this?” he questions skeptically as more blood goes spraying across the screen.

His wife chuckles at his tone even as she winces at the scream the protagonist lets out for the 100th time.

“He’s young, Gabriel. I don’t think we’re actually supposed to like what Carlitos likes,” she tells him as she leans across the couch, reaching for her phone. She turns to him with a smile as she shows him the caller ID. “Hablando del diablo,” she says fondly before pressing talk on their son calling.

“Tell him I’m questioning his choices,” Gabriel jokes, pausing the movie as Andrea says hello with a smile. He watches as that smile quickly drops, his heart seizing in his throat as she lets out a gasp and a shaky ‘what?’ to whoever she’s speaking to. It’s obvious now that it’s not their boy.

He waits for her to end the call with a fearful ‘we’ll be there soon’ before she turns to him with tears in her eyes.

Even before she speaks, he knows, and his hands shake as they reach for hers.

“Carlitos got hurt at work,” she whispers, her face pale and frightened. “He got shot, and they are rushing him to the hospital.”

 ֎֎֎

 The drive to the hospital is both short and the longest drive Gabriel Reyes has ever had behind the wheel. Next to him, Andrea grips the rosary his mama gave her after they got married. She doesn’t pray, though, and he thinks she’s too worried to remember any prayer at the moment.

“He’s going to be okay,” he tells her, his voice rougher than he would typically use with his sweetheart, but he can see her starting to spiral, and he needs her to focus on his voice and not on all the troubling thoughts he knows are running through her head at the moment. “Carlos is young and strong. He’s going to be fine, he –”

“Is our baby boy,” she whispers, looking at him with those big brown eyes, so like Carlos’ when he was little, looking at him to make everything okay.

“El va estar bien, amor,” he tells her softly, willing himself to believe it too.

He pulls into the hospital parking lot. They quickly exit the car, holding hands as they rush towards the doors and the front desk. He’s sure they both look a fright as they ask the girl behind the counter for information.

“Mr. and Mrs. Reyes,” calls out a tired voice to them, and when they turn around, they find a familiar-looking young man with brown hair and green eyes standing before them in an EMS uniform.

Gabriel is struck by his eyes. They’re wide, the worry in them plain to see, and it’s obvious he’s been crying by how pink and puffy they are.

“I’ve been waiting for you both; I didn’t want you to get lost,” he tells them, pointing to a door at the far end of the hall to the left. “We’re in there.”

“How’s Carlitos?” his wife asks at the same time as he says. “We’ve met you before.”

“Uh – yes – you have, sir. I’m TK,” he answers with a grimace. Gabriel knows it is the young man’s effort to smile but just can’t. “We met at the farmer’s market about nine months ago.”

TK turns to Andrea, his expression softening instantly. “They took Carlos to the back when we got here, ma’am, but we haven’t heard anything yet.”

“What happened?” he asks TK and is struck again by how expressive his eyes are. Gabriel sees pain, fear, frustration, and anger cross his face.

“We were answering a call to a disturbance; a man was threatening to set fire to his ex-bosses place and was holding them hostage inside. He was armed, so Carlos and the rest of APD went in first,” TK takes a pause, swallowing hard, and Gabriel is struck by how the young man is keeping it together when it’s undeniable that it’s difficult for him to do so. “Shots were exchanged, and the suspect was neutralized but not before he hit Carlos.”

“Where?” he asks, hoping against hope that his son was wearing his vest. TK’s face, scared and apologetic, tells him it doesn’t matter.

“T – the,” TK clears his throat, lifting a hand to run through his hair. Gabriel catches the slight shake of it. It’s not the only thing he spots on them. Though mostly clean, Gabriel notices specks of blood on them. Looking him over once more, he sees some on his uniform too. “The neck, sir.”

Andrea lets out a gasp, bringing her hand to her mouth to try and muffle the sound.

“You worked on him,” Gabriel realizes. He needs to focus on something other than the information they’ve just been given.

“Yes,” TK answers, biting down on his lip to the point that Gabriel wants to wince at how painful it looks. Given the redness of his mouth, the kid has probably been doing it a while now. “My Captain didn’t want it to be me – ” TK stops.

He takes a breath, collecting himself. “We stabilized him on the field and then brought him over. My Captain is here if you want to speak with her while we wait for the doctors.”

They follow the young man down the hall into a private room, and Gabriel is shocked to see how full it is with first responders, most still in uniform like TK. Everyone seems to turn to look at them when they walk in.

“These are Carlos’ parents,” TK explains to the crowd before turning to a tall woman with a sympathetic but no-nonsense look on her face. “Captain Vega, could you – ” he gestures towards them.

The Captain nods, standing from her seat to walk over to them. She has a bag with her that she hands over to TK.

“Nancy brought your stuff from your locker,” she says to the kid with a kind smile. She places her hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Why don’t you go change while I speak with Carlos’ parents.”

TK nods, looking relieved. “Yeah, Cap, thanks.” He turns towards them, looking like he wants to say something else but doesn’t. Instead, he gives them a small nod and walks away, leaving them with his Captain.

Gabriel focuses on her, reaching out to hold his wife’s hand as Captain Vega goes through the emergency in more detail. She’s compassionate but honest as she breaks down her assessment of Carlos’s injuries on the scene and their handling of it.

“TK is one of the finest medics I have ever worked with,” she tells them, with something akin to pride in her voice. “And it’s Carlos. He wasn’t about to lose him,” she continues softly, knowing. “We got him here, and they’ve had him in the back for the last hour. I’m sure they’ll come out and tell us something soon. All we can do now is wait, unfortunately.”

“And pray,” Andrea whispers thickly.

“Never a bad idea,” she says with a small, understanding smile. She looks away from them when someone calls her name, an older man in uniform walking towards them.

“Tommy, any word? Where’s TK?” he asks, rushed.

“Nothing yet,” she answers the man whose uniform says, Captain Strand. “And TK is changing. We didn’t want him to still be in the uniform that – “ she pauses, her eyes drifting to them.

“Right,” Captain Strand nods before his blue eyes turn towards them. Gabriel watches as he quickly recognizes who they are. “Mr. and Mrs. Reyes?” he questions, exhaling loudly when he answers him with a nod.

“Owen Strand, TK’s dad,” he says, extending his hand to Andrea first and then him. “Nice to finally meet you. I’m sorry it can’t be under better circumstances.”

Gabriel cocks his head at the peculiar comment.

“You work with our son?” Andrea asks politely, probably trying to distract herself from the worry she’s feeling.

“Often,” Owen gives them an honest smile. “He’s one hell of a police officer, good instincts, good head on his shoulders, strong,” he tells them intentionally. “He’s going to come through this just fine.”

Gabriel appreciates the comment, if anything, because it makes Andrea smile for the first time since they heard the news.

“Why don’t we sit down,” Owen continues. “We’re going to be here a while,” he points towards three firefighters with the same 126 insignia he has on his clothes, and they quickly get up, giving them the space. “Maybe we can get you some coffee or tea?”

He shakes his head but nods towards Andrea. “Some tea might be good for your nerves, vieja.”

Andrea nods absently, and Owen turns his head towards the trio who gave them their seats. “Strickland, Marwani, Chavez – “

“On it, Cap,” says the young Latino whose chest tag says, Chavez. “We’ll get for everyone.”

Owen offers the kid a grateful smile. “Get TK a sandwich. I know he hasn’t eaten.”

“He might not want to,” says the other man in the group with a deliberate look.

“We’ll sit on him and force him if we have to,” answers the young woman in the headscarf with a glint in her eyes that tells him she’s not joking. Gabriel watches them leave the room.

“They’re good kids,” Owen comments, catching his gaze. “They care about Carlos very much,” he says with a soft laugh. “Probably because he’s always feeding them when they hang out at his place.”

Andrea smiles at the comment, but Gabriel finds it curious. He doesn’t find it strange that his son would be welcoming. Like his mother, Carlos has always strived to make everyone feel at home. He is just surprised that his son is so close with this particular firehouse and its members.

TK comes back into the room in a hoodie and sweats, looking around. Gabriel watches as his eyes land on them before moving over to his father. He watches as the kid’s shoulders drop at the sight of his dad and quickly makes his way over, almost plowing into him as Captain Strand stands with his arms open, circling them around his boy.

“He’s gonna be okay,” he hears him whisper into his son’s ear. “Carlos wouldn’t leave you, you know that.”

Gabriel takes a sharp breath at the words; he looks over at his wife, seeing that her eyes have gone wide as she stares at the father and son with a newfound gaze, and he knows she’s caught it too.

Before they can come to terms with what it might mean, a doctor in green-colored scrubs walks in with a manila folder in hand. “I’m looking for Officer Reyes’ family?” he questions, startling as everyone stands or looks over at him.

Gabriel is surprised himself but warmed by the idea that so many people care about his son. “Over here,” he calls the doctor over. “We’re his parents.”

The doctor nods in response, crossing the distance between them until he’s standing in front of them, TK and his father joining in. “We’ve stabilized your son enough to move him,” the doctor starts. “He’s in the O.R. now; we’re repairing the damage. He was lucky that the bullet didn’t hit his carotid artery.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Andrea rushes to ask, fear coloring her question.

“We’re doing everything we can, ma’am,” the doctor answers softly with a sympathetic look. “He’s holding strong and was brought in quickly.”

“When can we see him?” he asks, his heart dropping at the shake of the doctor’s head.

“It’s going to be a while,” he answers. “We’re not sure how long it will be in the O.R., and then in recovery, it’s going to be a couple of hours.”

Gabriel feels the room deflate around him at the answer and feels the same.

“For now, I need his next of kin to sign off on some waivers,” the doctor continues as he looks inside his folder, reading out of it. “Who is Tyler Kennedy Strand?” he asks, the question filling the room with sudden tension.

“Uhh – me,” TK stammers, his eyes going to him and Andrea awkwardly. “But his parents – “

The doctor cuts him off with a shake of his head. “Officer Reyes’ work forms have you as the one with the power of attorney over any medical decisions on his behalf. You are aware of this, yes?”

TK looks pained and uncomfortable, apologetic even as he looks at Andrea before nodding. “Yes,” he says softly. “Carlos and I spoke about it a few months ago.”

“Then I need you to come with me, Mr. Strand,” the doctor answers, his eyes shifting over to them as well. “It’s just a formality, you understand.”

TK nods again, gesturing for the doctor to go first, following him out of the room, leaving the rest of them in silence, and he and Andrea stunned.

“They’re involved,” he states, not sure to who, but he catches Captain Strand’s slight wince.

“TK will explain when he comes back in,” he assures them, though Gabriel isn’t sure what he would have to explain. It’s pretty obvious the kid is someone important enough to his son that he would leave him in charge of his care if anything happened to him, and he and his wife know nothing about him.

Andrea reaches for his hand. When he looks at her, he sees the same confusion and hurt in her eyes he’s feeling. He squeezes it reassuringly as they retake their seats, neither knowing what to say.

They stay like that, silently waiting for TK or the doctor to come back. Owen walks away from them, drifting towards the other Captain.

After a few minutes, the ones who walk in are the trio of firefighters the Captain sent out for a snack.

“Te de manzanilla,” Chavez says with a boyish smile as he hands the cup of tea to Andrea. “My Abuela says it’s good for nerves.”

Andrea takes it but doesn’t drink right away. “Thank you – um?”

“Oh! I’m Mateo,” he answers before pointing at the other two who are finishing handing out bottles of water and coffees. “That’s Paul and Marjan. We’re friends of Carlos,” he says with another friendly smile as they come over to them.

“Nice to meet you all,” Andrea answers, elbowing him in the side to do the same.

Gabriel checks out, his mind drifting while his wife picks up the slack and chats with the trio, exchanging small talk. He only tunes in when Mateo asks about their new filly.

“You know about Sally?” he questions, frowning, confused. He gets a few nods from all of them and smiles.

“Carlos showed us pictures of her the last time we were over at his and TK’s place for dinner.”

Gabriel can’t help the sharp breath he takes at the comment.

“They live together?” Andrea asks, shocked, her voice above a whisper.

“Oh,” Paul says softly, his eyes widening with realization at their lack of knowledge. He exchanges worried looks with the young woman Mateo called Marjan. Both open their mouth as if to speak and then stop at a loss for words. Luckily for them, TK walks back into the room, making his way towards them.

“Guys, could you give me a second with Mr. and Mrs. Reyes?” he asks politely but firmly.

“Yeah, of course, man,” Paul says quickly, while Marjan tugs on Mateo to stand, moving away. Paul starts to follow them, only to stop and look at TK, speaking again with an apologetic look on his face. “We’re sorry, we didn’t know – “

TK waves him off, a half a smile on his tired face. “Don’t worry about it, Paul.”

Paul gives him a nod, looks at them, and nods again before walking away.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” TK tells them softly, biting down on his lip for a moment before taking a breath, straightening his shoulders. “I’ll do my best to answer them. Should we find somewhere a little more private?”

He looks over at his wife and finds her studying TK with a curious eye. He’s not surprised. He’s more than curious himself about this man who is important enough in his son’s life to be making decisions of life and death for him and apparently living with him. “I think that might be best.”

TK nods mostly to himself, motioning for them to follow him.

He leads them out into the hallway and into another room that Gabriel realizes is the chapel.

“Is this okay?” TK questions nervously. “I don’t want to be disrespectful,” he gestures towards the altar.

“It’s fine, TK,” Andrea assures him.

They take a seat together towards the back of the room, TK sitting across from them.

Nobody says anything for a long moment. He sits watching TK as he taps his foot, and Andrea plays with her hands, struck by the similar nervous motions. He recognizes as TK looks at them with a worried wrinkle between his brow, he doesn’t know where to start, and Gabriel is struck by how young he looks like this. It reminds him of Carlos’ nervous habits growing up, so concerned with disappointing them.

“How long have you and our son been together?” he questions, ripping off the bandaid.

“We’ve been dating for over a year,” he answers honestly, wincing when Andrea lets out a shocked sound. “But we’ve known each other for over a year and a half. It took a while for us to get – us, right.”

“A year?” Andrea questions, surprised and more than a little sad. “He’s kept this from us for a year?”

“He didn’t mean to,” TK rushes to explain – to defend their son to them, Gabriel realizes. He stops looking nervous, and Gabriel can honestly feel the wave of protectiveness coming off the young man.

While the part of him that isn’t still shocked at this sudden news is pleased that Carlos has found someone obviously loyal to him, another part of him is at a loss at being someone this young man thinks he needs to protect his son from. It leaves an unpleasant feeling in his stomach he tries to push down before he reacts in a way that he’ll regret later.

“Then what did he mean?” he questions, trying to understand. “Because if you guys have been dating for a year, that means you two were together when we met you at the market, and he called you a friend from work.”

He feels bad as his words cause the kid to flinch, and a small cynical smile twists his lips upward for a second.

“Yeah, that caused a big fight between us,” he answers dryly. “Look, this is something you need to talk about with Carlos when he comes to. We both knew it was a long time coming, and trust me, he’s been working up the nerve to tell you both about us.”

“Why would he need to work up the nerve?” Andrea questions while Gabriel watches as TK’s eyes flash, his hands curling for a moment. He’s struck by the fleeting anger he sees there – at them.

“Because you’re both more traditional, and he didn’t want to rub your noses in our relationship,” he answers tightly, making Andrea gasp.

Gabriel feels his hackles raise at the resentment he hears in the words. “Hey now, you don’t get – “

“Carlos’ own words,” TK interrupts, his voice sharp enough to stop him. TK stops too, taking a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

“I apologize,” he starts again, his voice calmer. “It’s not my place at all, and Carlos needs to be the one to explain this to you.”

Gabriel exchanges a glance with his wife, letting out a sigh when she gives him a serious look. He turns towards TK again, taking a calming breath of his own. “But he’s not here right now, and we’d like to understand.”

TK lets out a sigh, nodding at them after a moment. “You’re right,” he agrees quietly, running a hand through his hair. “I just really wish he was here, though,” he pauses, the pain and love in his eyes as he speaks striking a core with him. This man loves his son. That much is clear.

“Okay, first things first. Carlos loves you both so much,” he tells them reassuringly. “He speaks of both of you with so much respect and admiration. Please don’t doubt that for one second. He didn’t keep us a secret from you because he doesn’t love or respect you.”

“Then why?” Andrea asks, trying to understand.

TK presses his lips together, giving her a helpless shrug of his shoulder. “Because he was scared of upsetting you, of disturbing the tentative peace that the three of you have had since he rocked your world by telling you he was gay at 17, and then none of you ever spoke about it again. He didn’t want to disappoint you.”

By TK’s expression, Gabriel knows that he hasn’t just spoken with any malice, yet he still feels his words hit him like a punch.

“But – that’s,” he stumbles at a loss for words. “Carlos could never disappoint us,” he looks at Andrea to find her with tears in her eyes. “We love our son.”

TK gives him a smile; it’s kind and understanding. “I don’t doubt that,” he tells them, looking at Andrea. “He’s so easy to love, of course, you love him.”

“You love him,” Andrea says in awe, still crying, but it feels different than before, almost happy in the middle of the hurt.

TK’s eyes fill with tears; they spill over even as he gives them a bright smile. “More than I have ever loved anyone in my life, ma’am. He is everything to me.”

Gabriel hears how much he means it in his voice and instantly remembers something from earlier. “You worked on him at the scene,” he exhales over a dull ache in his chest at the thought. “Jesus Christ, kid, how did you – “

“The worst moment of my life,” TK whispers, losing his smile, his bottom lip trembling. “And life has thrown some curveballs my way,” he inhales deeply in an effort to control his emotions. “But I wasn’t about to lose him, not like that and not now. We have our whole lives ahead of us, and I plan to spend mine with your son.”

Gabriel hears the conviction and the subtle threat he’s issuing them. He’s telling them he’s not going anywhere, and while a small part of him wants to be annoyed at the warning, Gabriel finds himself mostly impressed. He finds himself liking the kid despite the situation.

“You love him so much,” Andrea whispers, shaking her head to herself. Knowing his wife, she’s mourning the fact that they’ve missed out on seeing it. “And he loves you?”

TK nods quickly. “He never lets me doubt it, not for one single second,” he swallows before another smile takes over his face, soft and involuntary. “He’s wonderful.”

“I’m so sorry we’ve missed it,” she tells him, and Gabriel smiles to himself at how easy he can still read her. “It was never our intent to make Carlos feel like he couldn’t share with us his life. When he told us he was gay, yes, it was a surprise, but we never loved him less,” she frowns, letting out a soft breath. “We wanted him to feel like nothing had changed, and instead, we made him feel like he couldn’t talk to us.”

“But he can,” he continues for Andrea, hoping TK will understand.

Andrea nods in agreement. “He can,” she repeats. “We want to be part of the life he’s building with you.”

TK smiles. It’s wobbly but iridescent as it lights up the room. “He – we would like that very much,” he tells them, chuckling softly. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to know you both. You need to tell him when he wakes up.”

Andrea looks fearful again as she turns from TK to him and back again. “What if – “

“No,” TK answers resolutely. He holds out his hand for Andrea, covering it when she places it in his. “Carlos is going to be fine. He’s not leaving us.”

Gabriel watches them hold each other’s hands, his wife taking comfort from the man in love with their son, and hopes, for all their sakes, that he will turn out to be right.

 ֎֎֎

 The next three days are the longest of Gabriel’s life. After over seven hours of surgery and recovery, they’re allowed to see a sleeping Carlos.

If there was any doubt in his mind about TK’s feelings for his son, they’re wiped out the moment he sees him at his bedside. The way he takes his hand in his, holding it for dear life as he whispers in his ear that he loves him and that he’s there, that they all are.

They wait, hours and hours they wait for Carlos to wake up. The doctors tell them the surgery was successful, and now they just have to wait for Carlos’ body to recover enough for him to wake up. They’re not sure when that’ll be.

He walks into his son’s hospital room after taking a call from work to find TK alone with Carlos, his wife nowhere in sight.

“You know, sweetheart, if this is payback for the time I got shot and ended up in a coma, then message received,” TK talks to a sleeping Carlos, bringing his hand to his lips. “You can wake up now because I’ve learned my lesson.”

“You were shot?” he questions, raising an eyebrow, wondering exactly what these two have been through.

TK blinks up at him. He lowers Carlos’ hand but doesn’t let go. “Yeah,” he nods, clearing his throat. “Before Carlos and I officially got together, it was a house disturbance gone wrong, an accident, but I got hit in the chest and ended up in an eight-day coma. Carlos had to sit through it, the eight worse days of his life, he likes to remind me,” he turns back to Carlos, his expression softening. “I really didn’t need to learn the hard way how this feels.”

Gabriel makes a sound at the back of his throat. He takes the seat he’d been occupying next to Andrea, finding her purse still there.

“She went to the restroom and to get something to drink,” TK tells him. “I told her I would stay with Carlos.”

Gabriel nods in understanding, and the room goes quiet as neither says anything else. They both just watch Carlos, focusing on the rise and fall of his chest. His eyes stray to TK —his focus on Carlos, the way he reaches out to touch his skin like he can’t bear letting him go for a moment for fear he’ll slip away. The last few days, he and Andrea have gotten to know the kid better, along with the rest of his crew.

Their love for each other and their love for Carlos is evident in every gesture and kind word they have to say about him. It still hurts him to know he and Andrea have missed so much. As he laid in bed holding his crying wife, more than a few tears slipped his own eyes at the lost time. Every day that passes, he promises to fix it when his son wakes up.

“You know, when he was around ten, he convinced his cousin to help him up the stallion at the farm,” he starts telling him, lost in the memory. “And this was a rough horse, even I didn’t ride him much, but he got on, and the thing, of course, sent him flying,” he shakes his head to himself. “He was knocked out maybe five minutes, but they were the longest five minutes of my life.”

“Was he okay?” TK questions, concerned even though it obviously turned out okay in the end.

“A fractured arm,” he answers, chuckling. “As soon as the cast was off, he was right back at it – this time bribing the horse with apples, carrots, and beetroots until he won him over. By the end, it would only let Carlos ride him. He was so smug about it, tipping his hat at us as he rode him.”

TK grins from ear to ear. “Tell me there are pictures of him in the hat.”

Gabriel stands, pulling out his wallet. He fishes out an old worn picture, passing it over to TK. He watches as the boy takes gentle care, running his index finger over the image as he smiles down at it.

“Damn, that’s cute,” he murmurs, handing back the picture after a moment longer. “You know, he won me over with patience too.”

Gabriel raises an eyebrow at the comment, waiting for him to continue.

“When he and I met, I wasn’t in a good place emotionally,” TK starts to tell him as he looks back at Carlos, reaching up to brush his hair back. “I’d gotten out of a relationship that left me messed up, and I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I hurt his feelings at the beginning, and honestly, he should have just cut his losses.”

He looks over at him. “But Carlos doesn’t give up on people, especially when they’re hurting, so he became my friend, someone I could trust with the not-so-great parts of me. He never judged. He just cared about me more, making sure I knew that I was worth the effort even when I wasn’t so sure of that myself,” he smiles as he retakes Carlos’ hand. “He loves me even when I don’t always love myself.”

“I’m sure you do the same for him,” Gabriel answers. Even with Carlos asleep, he’s seen enough to know the two of them genuinely love each other. Now he just wants his son to wake up so he can see it for real.

“I try,” TK answers. “He makes it easy.”

“Do you think he’ll forgive us?” he can’t help but ask, the question playing in his head the last few days as he learned more of the parts of his life Carlos felt the need to keep to himself for their comfort.

TK frowns as he looks at him, shaking his head slowly. “Carlos will tell you there is nothing to forgive. He doesn’t blame you.”

“He should, though,” he can’t help but argue, feeling frustrated, angry tears at the back of his throat. Fear clawing its way back after three days of waiting for his boy to open his eyes and wondering if it will ever happen. “He was 17, a kid, scared but brave as he told us his truth, and while we accepted it at that moment, we didn’t make sure he knew that it would always be okay with us. That’s on us. We should have done better.”

“Do better now, Gabriel,” TK says to him quietly, shrugging his shoulder when he looks at him, his expression nothing but kind. “Forgive yourself, because Carlos never blamed you to begin with, and do better now.”

“Are you always so wise, kid?” he asks, smiling when TK lets out a bark of laughter.

“That is the last word anyone who knows me would use to describe me,” he shakes his head, still giggling. “Usually, it’s stubborn or reckless. Carlos has been known to call me a brat quite a few times,” he says fondly as he looks down at the bed.

“Because you always get your way,” Carlos rasps out, eyes still closed.

Gabriel isn’t sure who’s gasp is louder, his or TK’s as they both stand to get closer.

“Carlos? Sweetheart?” TK asks, cautious but hopeful, and Gabriel holds his breath as he waits to see if Carlos is genuinely back with them.

It takes a minute, maybe two, maybe three, but slowly Carlos opens his eyes.

“Hi, sweetheart,” TK whispers, tears falling even as he smiles widely down at Carlos.

Gabriel watches as his son frowns as he tries to weakly reach up to touch TK’s face. TK helps him, lifting his hand and holding it against his cheek.

“Don’t – cry, Ty,” Carlos gets out slowly, brushing his thumb under TK’s eye, earning a wet laugh from him.

“I love you so much,” he says to him, and though he’s obviously tired and in pain, the smile Carlos gives TK is the brightest Gabriel has ever seen.

“Love you too, amor,” his son whispers back to his boyfriend, sounding just as hopelessly in love with him. It reminds Gabriel of him and Andrea, and he can’t help the small sound that escapes his throat.

“Dad – “ Carlos says softly, surprised as his eyes find him; they shift back to TK, concern coloring his expression.

“It’s okay, babe. I promise,” TK assures him with a smile as he gives his hand a squeeze.

“It is mijo,” Gabriel tells him, hoping to wipe away the slight fear he sees in his son’s eyes. He never wants to be the cause for that look again.

TK looks over to him, smiling at him reassuringly, and Gabriel remembers what he said to him moments before Carlos woke up. Forgive and be better.

“I’m gonna go find Andrea and a doctor,” TK declares, giving him a nod. He turns back to Carlos, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

TK steps away from Carlos, squeezing Gabriel’s arm as he walks by him before leaving the room, leaving him alone with his son.

Turning back to Carlos, he finds him still looking concerned as he stares at him, and that simply won’t do for him. He shifts over to where TK had been standing, now next to Carlos. “How do you feel?” he questions gently, getting a tiny shrug back.

“Tired,” Carlos gets out, his voice raspy. “Thirsty.”

“Oh! Of course,” Gabriel says quickly, turning to grab the pitcher of water on the bedside counter and a cup. Filling it, he turns back to Carlos, raising his bed a bit before bringing the straw to his lips. “Slowly, mijo.”

Carlos does as he asks, all the while looking at him. After he’s had his fill, Gabriel pulls the cup away, putting it back on the counter. He reaches out to his son, running a hand over his curls like he would do when he was a little boy.

“You scared the hell out of us, kid,” he whispers, swallowing hard as the last couple of days catch up to him. “We were so scared we were gonna lose you.”

Carlos leans into his touch. As he closes his eyes, a tear rolls down his cheek. “Sorry, pop.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Gabriel shakes his head. He takes Carlos’ hand. “These last few days have shown your mom and me how much of your life we have missed, and we’re so sorry.”

“Dad – “ Carlos tries. “I – “

“We messed up, Carlos,” he continues, needing to get it out. “We thought we were keeping things normal by not making a big deal out of you coming out, and instead, what we did was make you believe that you needed to keep parts of your life a secret for us to be comfortable. But our comfort isn’t the most important thing. Your happiness is, and as long as you’re happy, so are we.”

Carlos’ eyes fill with more tears, and Gabriel is struck by how young he seems as he looks up at him hopeful.

“We met your boyfriend,” Gabriel chuckles fondly. “I mean, obviously. He’s pretty special, Carlitos. You picked a good one.”

Carlos laughs. It’s wet from tears but joyful. “I picked the best one.”

Gabriel smiles at the pride he hears in his son’s voice. “We’d like to get to know him, son,” he says. It’s a hope and a request in one. “Your mom and I, we’d like to know him and you,” he swallows hard as his eyes burn. “We love you so much, but loving someone isn’t always knowing them. If it’s okay with you, we’d like a chance to fix that now.”

Carlos stares at him, mouth open, and there is the slightest tremble of his bottom lip.

“Carlitos.”

He and Carlos turn their heads to the door where Andrea and TK stand together. Carlos smiles at his mom, the smile growing when he notices that she’s holding hands with TK.

“Mami,” he says softly.

Andrea walks towards them, tugging TK along with her. Reaching the bed, she reaches out to touch his face. “Baby,” she whispers, shaking her head as she tries not to cry. “Please never scare us like this again.”

Carlos lets out an amused huff, closing his eyes for a second. “I’ll try, Ma.”

“Good,” Andrea grins at him, amused by his tone. “And you better be ready to be smothered for a while. TK and I have been making plans. We’re not letting you out of our sight.”

“We have a shifts chart,” TK teases him, sharing a grin with Andrea.

Gabriel watches with amusement as Carlos looks scared again, this time at the team he sees being created before his very eyes. He laughs, happy and relieved, when Carlos turns to him for support.

“I wouldn’t fight it, kid,” he warns him. “You know how your mother is, and your boyfriend seems just as bad; just accept it. They’re bonded. We all have.”

Carlos looks around at all three of them, the contentment he sees in his son’s expression, a blessing, and Gabriel knows it’s going to be okay. There is still a lot of time that he and Andrea will have to make up for. Conversations that will still need to be had.

But his son is alive; he’s safe, happy, and in love with a good man. He and Andrea haven’t missed it all, and they don’t plan to miss anything else when it comes to their boy ever again.

Carlos grins at him. “I think I’m okay with that, dad.”

Gabriel smiles back. He’s okay with it too.

#911 lone star #tarlos #911 lone star fic #tarlos fic #tk x carlos #my writing

[higherfurther-romanova]

Stroganoff, Maximoff, Romanoff (I'm struggling for a title)

Warnings: A little bit of anxiety, fluffy though, language.

Word Count: 810

A/N: How are you guys? Been a bit lol. Happy pride month, hope you enjoy this, I’m going to try to get through some requests here soon. I'm not exactly feeling confident with Wound Into A Widow’s Web at the moment so bare with me please. <3

~~~~~~~~~~~⧗~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re free to go, Agent.” Fury said after the mission debriefing.

It wasn’t the first time you were going on a mission on your own, in fact, the furthest from it, but it was the most dangerous one you’ve been sent on. It was an undercover one to weasel into the cracks of HYDRA and destroy the branch in Italy.

You faked your polite smile, because to be quite honest you were pissed, maybe it was just your way of hiding your fear because you were taught that fear wasn’t an option as a child.

“And agent,” Fury stopped you before you left the room, “Be careful.”

“Always.” You smiled at him before walking out.

~~~~~~~~~~~⧗~~~~~~~~~~~

You had a week before you left and the days were ticking by quickly. You were losing your mind, overworking yourself, studying the information you already have on the other branches, training constantly, and spending little to no time with your girlfriends. You practically had to be force fed because you were afraid you were going to miss something.

“FUCK.” You groaned loudly standing up from your desk. It was dark out, god knows what time it was.

Natasha came running into your office, papers were scattered everywhere. “Baby?”

“Did I wake you guys?” You looked up from where you were leaning against your desk on your hands.

“Come to bed.” She walked over to your desk.

“I need to-”

“You’re overworking yourself, doing more harm than good at this point.” She said as she made her way over to you, resting her chin on your shoulder from behind. She could feel how tense you were and could practically feel the stress radiating from you.

You sighed, “I just don’t want to screw this up… I can’t end up back under their control.”

“You won’t. I know you… But the more you overwork yourself, the more you’re going to fry your brain, so come on.” She pulled you out of your office and into your bedroom.

“Sit.” She commanded as if you were a dog… in a much more loving manner but that’s not how it felt.

She left the room dragging Wanda with her. You leaned back on the bed, running your fingers through your hair, just taking a breath. You must have drifted off because you woke up to the wonderful smell of your favorite beef stroganoff Wanda would make. She had it set up nicely on a tray she was carrying with a bit of help from Natasha.

“You didn’t have to…” You smiled softly at both of them.

“It’s the least we can do.” She smiled and kissed you on the cheek after setting it down on the bedside table.

“Now are we going to have to force feed you or are you going to cooperate and eat?” Nat teased.

You chuckled and shook your head, “No. You guys have done quite enough and I appreciate it.”

You ate while catching up with the two of them and just talking nonsense like you used to do, it lifted a little bit of the stress off of your shoulders. After helping them clean up, you got into bed and they curled up to both of your sides. Your heart rate increased as you thought more about your upcoming mission and Wanda must have noticed because she rested her hand on your stomach and started tracing patterns.

“Are you okay, darling?” She lifted her head off of your chest and looked down at you.

“Yeah, of course.”

Natasha sat up on her elbow, “You don’t have to lie, we know you aren’t. You haven’t been since you were assigned to your mission.”

You shrugged, avoiding eye contact with them. You knew you would break if you saw the way they were looking at you, it felt stupid to be so over worked over a damn mission. The sokovian lifted your chin up with her index finger, making you look at her. You felt tears well in your eyes as you clenched your jaw, trying to hold them back.

“It’s okay.” She pulled you in and hugged you, kissing your forehead. Natasha rubbed your back as a few more tears fell from your eyes.

“We love you and we know that you’re going to do great.” Natasha whispered as she hugged you as well.

“I know…” You closed your eyes, pulling yourself together.

No, you didn’t know, but the more they assured you, the better you felt, you just wouldn’t admit it.

“Fury wouldn’t have assigned this mission to you if he didn’t know you couldn’t pull it off.” Wanda assured you.

You gave her a soft smile and nodded. The three of you laid back down and eventually drifted off to sleep. You needed it, you hadn’t slept that well in a while and they knew that… they always know.

~~~~~~~~~~~ᗢ~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @imnotasuperhero @rooskaya-yelena @aaron-despair @natasha-danvers

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #scarlet witch x black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #avengers fluff #black widow fluff #black widow x reader #avengers x reader #mcu fic

[vagrantblvrd]

Cannot stop thinking about the whole bounty hunter thing, right?

So.

The one where Din - Very Tired and Very Put Upon Din - is tasked with bringing in this Utter Menace Luke Skywalker.

By a very lovely, very terrifying Leia Organa-Solo.

“...Alive?”

He doesn’t get the feeling as annoyed as Organa-Solo seems that she wants this Skywalker dead, but it’s always nice to get a confirmation on that one. Cuts down on confusion/dissatisfied clients.

Din is mildly concerned at the long moment of silence that follows his question - the scruffy looking man beside seems to be as well -

“Leia, he’s your brother,” said scruffy looking man says, and which Din is careful not to show a reaction to because what is wrong with these people???

Organa-Solo sniffs disdainfully, and if Din wasn’t so concerned at his precarious situation, what with being in the New Republic’s seat of power and all the armed guards and such, he’d be out of there so damned fast!!1!

But.

Precarious position and so on.

“If you must,” she finally allows, which makes the scruffy looking man drop his face into his hands and muttering to himself about marrying into a family of dramatic assholes.

Organa-Solo doesn’t react as if this is something that happens frequently, and anyway, none of Din’s business, so.

Din - Very Tired and Very Put upon Din - accepts.

Because there’s really no other choice when someone in Organa-Solo’s position of power “asks” him to do his damn job, right?

And then Din and wacky shenanigans in chasing after this Skywalker guy, right? Hopping from planet to planet and just a little too late to catch him the first few times.

He almost thinks Skywalker is toying with him - but then that time on some dusty little planet somewhere where he actually sees Skyalker, goes after him where the bastard realizes he has a Mandalorian bounty hunter on his tail?

And the guy is like :O! at first, which is vaguely gratifying/kind of exhausting?

(Gratifying in that sometimes the reputation Mandalorians have gained for themselves is helpful in this line of work, exhausting because, you know, they have that sort of reputation and it’s just. A Lot sometimes.)

Anyway.

After a chase though a bus marketplace and so on, to Din’s frustration and what is wrong with these people, Skywalker is laughing at him???

Escapes, because of course he does, leaving Din in a predicament involving annoyed locals and an fines and such for the damages incurred in said chase through a busy marketplace.

To Din’s surprise, Organa-Solo tells him she’ll handle the fines herself when he calls her to let her know per their contract agreement - that he’s finally made contact with Skywalker.

(Also the part where he was arrested and apparently there’s a note in his file/whatever that if something like this would happen whoever arrested him was to have Din contact her or some other plot convenient reason in which Din wonders what horrible thing he must have done for luck like this. Also. What is wrong with these people???)

After Din’s released and goes back to chasing after Skywalker he makes the unpleasant realization that he had no idea what Organa-Solo meant when she categorized Skywalker as an Utter Menace.

Chasing Skywalker was frustrating as hell before their little meeting, but afterwards when he knows for certain Din’s after him?

He’s a nightmare.

Sets up obstacles and distractions in the way now, people coming up to Din when he’s this close to catching the bastard on some planet and being all soft and scared and in need of help a Mandalorian bounty hunter like Din can’t say no to?

Stories laced with tragedy or quiet sorrows and there was a man - nice young man - who said he was a friend of this bounty hunter who’d be right after him who could help. They don’ have a lot of money, but would gladly give what they do have to Din if he can help and it’s like.

He can’t say no to them, now can he? Not when he sees the look on their faces and hears their stories and as aggravating as Skywalker and this whole...nonsense to do with him Din’s caught up in, some things are more important.

And if Din catches Skywalker’s eye across that crowded marketplace and sees this odd little smile on his face, something to it that Din has to look away from like Skywalker knew Din wouldn’t turn someone in need away the way he should, because Skywalker is right there and Din’s a bounty hunter, well. That’s a thing that happens sometimes.

(The same way he’ll catch a glimpse of a hooded figure in black at the edges of a gunfight/shitshow Din gets himself into helping whatever person Skywalker’s tossed his way this time lending Din a hand before disappearing in the smoke and chaos once everything’s over.)

Thing continue on like that for a while until Din catches up to Skywalker on some planet somewhere. Tracks him to the ruins of what looks like a temple of some sort and they get ambushed by other bounty hunters hired by Imperial remnants and then it’s working together to not die horribly.

Trudging through the jungle to get back to their ships after wacky shenanigans and death-defying escapes and such.

Skywalker amused about something the whole time, not even putting up a fight or trying to escape, which is just. What is wrong with these people???

Skywalker just shrugs when Din asks, odd little smile on his face and laughter in his eyes and -

“Go to sleep, Skywalker. We’ll be at the ships in the morning.”

Which they do, and Din’s giving his a looking over suspecting sabotage or whatever because that would be just his luck after the last few days - weeks, months, however long since he was brought before Organa-Solo and her consort/husband/???

Skywalker’s sitting at the edge of the clearing they’d both used o lad their ships, sitting on a fallen log, face turned up to soak in the warmth of the sun and looking so.

Serene, content.

Like he’s not been caught by the bounty hunter on his trail after nearly being taken/killed by another set of bounty hunters and Imperial remnants and Din knows, alright, he’s known for a while that this isn’t his usual kind of job.

Never mind it was given to him by someone like Organa-Solo, just. Skywalker and the kinds of messes he stumbles into that Din inevitably stumbles into as well.

Din stares at Skywalker for a long moment, and sighs.

Annoyed at himself because something about Skywalker and his everything and Din is so, so annoyed at himself as he tosses the keys to the cuffs Skywalker’s wearing and walks away from the whole damn thing.

“Hey!”

Because maybe Din tossed said keys at Skywalkers head, but that’s neither here nor there.

Din doesn’t look back at Skywalker as he goes into his ship, sure as hell doesn’t look down at him watching Din take off, leave his damn bounty behind because he knows that would as much a mistake as having taken the bounty in the first place.

He contacts Organa-Solo, tells her he lost track of Skywalker and pretends he doesn’t see the knowing look on her face or hear the quiet breath of laugh before she tells him it’s what happens when someone tries to bring someone like him in.

Tells him he can keep what payment she gave him in advance, that she’ll send him the rest and good luck with everything else and that’s that for the bounty, perhaps they can work together in the future sometime.

He doesn’t trust it at first, of course, suspects a trap or some other trick, but as time goes by he realizes none seems to be in store for him.

And then he goes back to Mandalore, because he’s got a kid waiting on him, and also the whole...Darksaber bit and anyway, anyway, he’s got a lot going on in his life.

Months later, though, and he’s...somewhere...kid asleep in his arms and some drink or other in front of him in a quiet little bar on some quiet little world somewhere and a hooded figure in black takes a seat across from him.

Has this odd little smile on his face when he pulls his hood down, eyes taking in the tiny green gremlin of a kid in Din’s arms.

Din himself.

“You know,” Skywalker muses, amused about something. “I never did ask what my sister offered you to being me in.”

He says it like it’s nothing, like it’s normal for his sister to place a bounty on his head, to ensnare someone like Din to go after him.

No threats, nothing overt, but. She’d known he was quietly asking around about Jedi, and it wouldn’t take much to find out about the tiny green gremlin of a kid, and there’s no running when someone powerful as Organa-Solo has you in her sights. Better to swallow his pride and do as he’s asked than refuse outright for the kid’s sake if nothing else.

(But. After he told her he lost track of Skywalker and that knowing look of hers, the promise he’d receive the rest of his payment, she’d also offered to help him in his search for a Jedi, which. Yes.)

Din stares at Skywalker because really what is wrong with these people???

Din sighs, quiet little thing, and looks at the kid asleep in his arms. Watches him for a moment, always too much in his heart for a tiny green gremlin of a kid, and then he looks up at Skywalker.

There’s a moment, and then a quiet breath of laughter from Skywalker, so much like his sister’s.

“Ah,” he says, and then -

“I could help, if you’d like.”

At which point Din is like what, because the whole Skywalker is a Jedi, and also his sister is devious.

“...what.”

She heard about a Mandalorian asking about a Jedi and looked into it while Skywalker was gallivanting about the galaxy seeking out Jedi relics and the whatnot. Worried about her idiot of a brother and knowing full well he could handle himself, but still.

Idiot of a brother, but also idiot of a Mandalorian and it was her way of gauging what sort of threat Din was to her idiot of a brother.

“What.”

Sure, she’d heard stories that said Mandalorian wasn’t all bad, but still.

Bounty hunter???

Skywalker just laughs, soft and fond, like hey, no, sending a bounty hunter after her brother is just a thing she does sometimes.

Really though, what is wrong with these people???

Anyway, for reasons unknown to him and against his better judgement, Din goes along with Luke to some remote planet somewhere. The guy says he can help with Grogu, deliberately, infuriatingly, vague about the how of it, but Din goes anyway because he is, indeed, an idiot of a bounty hunter.

And then he finds out Skywalker’s a Jedi.

Skywalker.

A Jedi.

“Uh...I thought you knew?”

Din did not.

Skywalker frowns, clearly thinking back to all their encounters and wacky shenanigans from months back and has this “Oh,” moment, before he gets this sheepish look on his face.

Din carefully doesn’t sigh as he watches Skywalker, no.

“Yes,” he says, carefully pulling Grogu’s hand away from the leather strap across the front of his armor. “’Oh.’“

For the first time ever Skywalker apologizes, and Din is just.

He, too, is thinking back to their wacky shenanigans and all the grief Skywalker caused him and that’s when he sighs.

(What else is he supposed to do?)

“Can you teach him?” he asks, Grogu reachig for some flying insect fluttering by and Din keeping him from falling without a second thought.

Sees the way Skywalker’s face goes all quiet and soft, smile kicking up at the corner of his mouth.

“I can,” he says, like it’s just that simple a thing.

Din has to look away for a moment, too much in his heart at the moment, and Skywalker laughs and just.

Yes.

And then awkward flirting and overtures as Skywalker trains Grogu in the ways of the Force and so on.

Also?

“Do you even know how to use that thing?” in regards to the Darksaber.

Din would be insulted, offended, if they weren’t at the edge of a clear, blue lake, sun setting behind the temple and little Grogu tired from a day of lessons and babbling to himself in Din’s arms.

But it seems like something not worth getting worked up about - he’s learnig to pick his battles with Skywalker, Utter Menace that he is, something his sister wasn’t wrong about.

"Hm,” Din says, and lets Skywalker convince him into getting saber lessons from him, what with him being a Jedi and all, and very carefully doesn’t laugh as that would just encourage Skywalker.

And then, okay, then there are saber lessons and sparring and Skywalkers bright, happy smiles and laughter and Din isn’t completely useless with the Darksaber, you know. Manages to disarm Skywalker, pin him up against one of the old trees at the edge of the training ground Skywalker’s set up.

Utter Menace of a Jedi grinning up at him without the sly edge of the smirk that’s been on his face since they started training and little goading remarks. So it’s inevitable Din leans his head down to press his forehead against Skywalker’s, too much in his heart for him the way it’s been for a while now, and Skywalker’s quiet laughter in his ear and, Din thinks, it feels like home.

Also, though, also.

Luke deliberately avoiding awards ceremonies and other horrific events in which the Hero of the Rebellion is expected to attend and a very beautful, very terrifying Leia Organa-Solo contacts Din to task him with bringing her Utter Menace of a brother in to accept the honors to be bestowed upon him, he can’t keep running away like this. Please, Din.

“...Alive?” Din asks, because the clarification is important.

Leia gives Din a look that says she honestly doesn’t care at this point, but it’s become something of a joke between them.

More so when he hears Solo yelling a reminder from somewhere behind Leia that Luke is her brother, and the frustration on her face melts away.

“If you must,” she says, smile on her face so much like her brother’s.

Din, fond/terrified of Leia as he is, accepts. Tracks his Utter Menace down to some remote planet and the Jedi ruins he’s poking through and is like.

“Do you want to know how much your sister offered me to bring you in this time?”

Skywalker shugs, but there’s a quirk to his mouth Din recognizes as trouble.

“Do you want to hear my counter-offer, instead?”

Trouble, the way knew Din it would be, because Skywalker’s walking - stalking - towards him.

“No,” Din says, because he can’t be bought so easily, but then there’s Luke in front of him, confident and easy and natural as anything to let him get so close.

Luke’s smile slides into a smirk - Utter Menace - and the smugness is not endearing at all.

At all.

Stop looking at him like that. >:(((((((((((((((

(Din still brings Luke back, because Leia, but it takes a while. Because reasons.)

#star wars nonsense #dinluke #¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #i have specific tastes #they tend to run towards ridiculousness like this #sorry??? #long post #right side of the sun

[krastbannert]

Aang interacting with the Freedom Fighters? Longbee keeping their relationship a secret because Azula is Fire Nation and they don't trust her only to stumble upon a cute azulaang scene 🥺

Okay, so, this ask is really old, I know, but I'm finally getting around to it. I wasn't really sure if you wanted a fic or like just detailing headcanons, so I'm kind of doing both? The fic portion is short, but hopefully it's cute.

Aang and the Freedom Fighters would, I think, I have a slightly tense relationship for a little while (what with the whole "blowing up a dam and trying to flood a town" thing). But, they'd come around eventually. It would be very awkward for a while, yeah - they've had vastly different lives and they're just different people to begin with - but they'd have something like friendship.

------

“Do we have to leave?”

It’s the first thing he’s said aloud all afternoon, and she can’t help but chuckle.

“Yeah, Shot, we kinda do,” Smellerbee sighs, running her fingers through his hair. If she had her choice, they’d stay here for a while longer - forever, maybe - but they had to go back. Shot sighs into her chest, picks his head up and presses a kiss to her lips, one of his hands running up her side. She shivers, leans into the kiss for a moment before pulling away.

“Down boy,” Bee whispers. Longshot sighs dramatically, rolls his eyes, but listens - he knows just as well as her that they have to go back at some point.

(She hates it. Hates that they have to keep this a secret, but it’s for the best.

For now, at least. Until they’re safer. It’s only been two months since Ba Sing Se fell, and with those new Fire Nation girls that had joined Team Avatar - or whatever Sokka had decided to call the group now - Longshot wasn’t entirely comfortable broadcasting that they were together. Especially around Azula. The girl might have been Longshot’s princess, but that seemed to terrify him.

To be honest, Smellerbee wasn’t entirely comfortable broadcasting their relationship, either. She trusted Azula about as far as she could throw the younger girl - and that wasn’t very far.)

“What do you think of Aang?” she decides to ask as she tugs her pants back on.” Seems different than back in Gaipan.”

Longshot stops in the middle of putting his shirt on, tilts his head for a moment, then nods.

He’s grown up a little bit, Longshot’s saying.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Bee says as she slips into her armor, buckles her knife belt around her waist. Longshot snorts as she grabs his hat, jams it on her head with a grin. He just rolls his eyes and continues lacing up his wristguards. When he’s finally ready, Bee loops her arm through his, and start their hike back - they had a few miles to go, so they had plenty of time to themselves.

They barely make it a mile - talking about nonsense, about Aang, about Azula, about anything but the war - when suddenly Longshot stops, tugs her behind a tree, wrapping her up in his arms.

“Shot, come on, we gotta-” she stops when Shot puts a finger against her lips, nods toward the clearing in front of them. She slowly pokes her head out, squinting, and has to do a double take.

Aang is there, sitting on the ground, with Azula resting between his legs, leaning back against him. She can just barely make out Aang’s lips moving, see him guiding her hands, working at something - she can’t tell what.

“What the hell?” Bee whispers, looking up at Shot - he just shrugs.

I didn’t know anything about this, he signs.

She looks back, unable to stare herself away. Azula…she’s never had a reason to dislike the girl, it’s just that she’s always been so…aggressive. Intense. It’s strange to see her like this, working quietly with someone who was the complete opposite of her in every way.

(Seriously - Aang? Bee didn’t have a problem with the guy, not at all, it was just…surprising.)

Azula glare of concentration suddenly shifts to smug pride, and she holds her hands up in front of her: it’s…a flower crown. That…Smellerbee had not expected that out of Azula. The girl turns to show Aang, who takes it and settles it on her head; even with a crown of flowers, she looks absolutely regal. And she can see that the Avatar is thinking the same thing - the look on his face, it’s the same one she’s seen Longshot give her when he thinks she’s not looking.

It’s only a moment later that Aang cups Azula’s cheeks, and kisses her gently, and the smug look fades to peace and contentment.

(Oh, fuck, watching this feels weird, Bee thinks.

At the same time, though, it’s really adorable. Even if it is the princess of the Fire Nation the Avatar is sucking face with.)

“Guess we’re not the only ones with a secret,” Shot says. She glances up, and there’s a smile on her boyfriend’s face.

“What’d you wanna do?” she asks, but she already knows the answer.

“Let them be,” he murmurs.” They deserve a little peace, too.”

#krast answers asks #@writebecauseyoucannotbreathe #smellerbee #longshot #azula #aang #smellershot #longbee #smellerbee x longshot #azulaang #aang x azula #atla fanfic #atla

[thisismyhell]

With you, Safely

Pairing: Hotch x reader (criminal minds) FLUFF :)

Summary: You have a stalker, and it just so happens the BAU is in the right place at the right time. Can Hotch make you feel safe in your stressful state?

Words: 5k

TWs: blaming yourself, a gun is mentioned, making out!!!!!

Being honest about your personal life was never your strong suit. You always had the habit of leaving out sometimes small, and sometimes big, details about your situation. Whether it was because you found it way too personal, or just simply forgot about the idea of telling someone. You knew that theoretically if the people in your life were good, they would be there for you. But, you also knew that you had some people in your life who were not so good, and the lines often blurred in your mind. So when you started getting anonymous threats sent to your workplace, it took you a while to come to terms with the fact that you should tell someone. 

Taking your boss’s advice, you went to the police station. You have never had a reason to engage with a cop before, and if you were honest with yourself, you were not exactly thrilled at the concept. Especially under your circumstances. Not only did you hate the idea of talking about your personal life, but asking for actual help made you nauseous. It made you physically uncomfortable to put yourself out there like that, admitting to being vulnerable and not being able to take care of the situation quietly on your own. You understood that having threats sent to you like this was not a casual situation you could take care of, but you were still mentally trying to get out of this realization. Everything is fine if you just don’t talk about it, right?

“How can I help you today?” the receptionist asked, bringing you back into reality. “Um, sorry - I just..I think I may have a s-stalker? I don’t really know though, it might not even be that serious-”, “okay, what makes you think you have a stalker?” you were thankful she had taken the lead in this conversation. “Well, I-uh, I have been getting threats. Like, sent to my workplace? I don’t know, like, letters and packages from someone I don’t know. It might not be serious, my boss.. My boss just thought I should tell the police?” You were so uncomfortable, and the woman helping you could tell. “Alright well, how about you step into an office over here and we can take you information, and you can tell an officer everything you can. How does that sound?” Her kind eyes were easing your shoulders from their crunched up state. “That would be helpful, yes, t-thank you”. You followed her into an office where an officer wrote down everything you described to them. 

Taking the bus back to your apartment, you felt some tension leave your body. It had been maybe 2-3 months of keeping this to yourself, and you finally had the energy to tell someone. Someone who could maybe actually put you at ease. You probably didn’t have a stalker, let’s be real. That stuff never happens in real life, the concept was so far away from being real to you. Exiting the bus you kept telling yourself everything would be fine, and this would blow over in a week. You walked up the steps to your one bedroom, and found a stack of mail at your doorstep. Picking it up and entering your home, and flipped through. A bill, some junk mail, and some letter with no return address on it. Actually, it just had your info and nothing else, not even a stamp. You put the rest of your mail down and opened the mysterious letter. Your heart sank when you realized what it was. 

“Why did you have to tell them about us? Everything was going so well.”

That’s all it said inside the letter. You dropped it, and called the station asking for the officer you were just speaking to. They told you that you were lucky, because the FBI was in town that week and had just finished up another case. You were told they had some extra time on their hands, and you could come in tomorrow to speak with them. You sighed and agreed, hanging up in relief. This would blow over, everything would be just fine. 

The BAU team was getting ready to head back to their hotel room when Hotch was pulled aside by an officer at the precinct they were working at. “Sir, I’m sorry to ask about this on your way out. But a woman came in earlier about a stalker sending threats to her workplace. We took her story and information, but she just called me back. She got a letter in the mail saying she shouldn’t have told the police. The guy knows where she lives”. 

The team all gathered around the officer. Hotch reached out, “she came in today about this, and he escalated that quickly?”. “Wait, if she was here today, how did we miss her?” Reid probed. The officer shook his head, “the lady was so quiet, she seemed hesitant to even be here in the first place. As soon as she finished her side and said that was all she knew, she was gone. Quietest girl I’ve ever seen”. “She must not have thought it was serious,” commented Morgan. 

“Sure, but a stalker rarely sends threats to the object of his desire without preparing for some kind of meeting. Officer, tell her to come back to the station and we can make a profile”. The officer told him she was already on the way, and she’d be there in less than an hour. 

Feeling shook up, you entered the station for the second time that day. The receptionist recognized you, and walked with you to where the BAU team was working. You felt somewhat shameful that such a big deal was being made over you, but you had to keep reminding yourself that you were not safe in your own home at this time. So you swallowed your pride, and right when you were about to try and get their attention, a tall dark haired gentleman introduced himself. “Good evening, you must be y/n. You can call me Hotch, and this is my team-”, you listed as he told you everyone’s name, thankful for his close proximity to you. Sure it was cheesy, but having a man like Hotch around you made you feel safe. You looked up at him, “thank you all, really - you didn’t have to stay in town just for this”. Hotch cut you off, “Nonsense. We were already here, and having a stalker know where you live on top of where you work is not something to ignore. We will help create a profile for you, you might know who it is without realizing it. You nodded, realizing for the first time in the past 3 months just how tired you were of this. Hotch immediately picked up on your body language, leading you to where a couch was placed in the back of the room.

You sat down next to Reid, the young doctor. He smiled at you almost as awkwardly as you smiled at him. Feeling safe on the couch, you let yourself relax a bit more. The situation you had gotten yourself into was far from ideal, but at least now you weren’t alone in it. However selfish it made you feel, you were happier to be here with the overworked team instead of your lonely apartment. You looked around and it seemed like the entire BAU were trying to profile you. Maybe they were, it was their job of course. You made eye contact with Hotch, who nodded at you, giving you the opportunity to tell your side of things. 

“It started 2 or 3 months ago when I got some letter delivered to me at work. It was weird since like, why would I get mail at work? But I opened it and it was just a description of what I looked like, like in a poem. But I googled it and it’s an original. I couldn’t find it anywhere. So that threw me off but I didn’t take it seriously. I work in retail, I see a million people every shift, you know? I thought it was just some guy who was into me and was weird about it. But then I started getting them more and more often, but just at work. I got sent pictures of myself, presents, and they never had return addresses. And they all had the same handwriting so it was easy to assume it was the same guy. But today...I got a letter to my apartment. To where I live...alone. That’s never happened”. 

The team took in your words, looking like they had definitely seen this kind of thing before. Your gut had the mixed feeling of relief and worry. If they had seen this before they knew what to do, but that meant that they had to do something. Hotch looked at you, “luckily, we should be able to end this before he goes further. Can you tell us anyone in your life, no matter how small, that might want to hurt you, or even someone who holds some animosity towards you?”. You thought about it, and though you had a hunch, you were hoping it wasn’t true. “My..my ex boyfriend. I thought we ended things amicably, but I don’t think he ever got over it. I was hoping it wasn’t him”. The team all nodded, this was probably more common that you thought. 

You stood up, “I’m sorry, I just need some air”. You stepped into the hallway for some quiet, when you heard the office door open and close behind you. You recognized his cologne, Hotch came out and stood in front of you. “I know how uncomfortable this situation must be. Is there anything we can do to make you more comfortable in the meantime?”. The man had the kindest eyes, even under his stern brows. You wondered if he practiced this expression, the perfect balance between intimidating and soft. You hoped you were that good and being readable, that way you wouldn’t have to open your mouth. Weirdly, the only thing you wanted in that moment was a coffee. Something to keep you warm and give you some much needed energy. Having yourself on display like this all day had been exhausting. You were amazed when Hotch spoke, “there’s a coffee place across the street. The machine in here is broken, thankfully. I’ll take you”. He gently hovered his hand on the small of your back, as if asking permission to guide you out of the building. 

He walked you out, opening doors for you on the way. Walking into the shop with an FBI agent on your arm made you feel safe for the first time in a couple months. You weren’t one to rely on others in any capacity, but in that moment, you let yourself feel relaxed with the man’s presence. It was literally his job to keep you safe, and you’d be lying if that fact didn’t give you butterflies. You were a little too engulfed with taking him in that you didn’t notice he was speaking to you. “Sorry? I’m sorry, I must have zoned out, what were you saying?” you stammered, and he just looked down at you and smiled, repeating his question. “I was asking what you would like to drink? I assume coffee, but I wasn’t sure what your preference was”, he was smiling down at you, and you forgot about every type of coffee that has ever existed. “Oh! Um, a vanilla latte. But you don’t have to get it for me, I can take care of myself-” he cut you off with a single look. “Although I am more than sure you are capable of taking care of yourself, I would like to give you this one thing, if you’d let me”. You swallowed, “I guess- I guess I can let you do this one thing. For me. Thank you, sir”. He ordered your drinks and the two of you stood at the next counter waiting for them. Hotch quietly spoke to you, almost like it was just the two of you in the entire building, “as much as I appreciate the title, please call me Hotch”. You found yourself suppressing a giggle at the feeling of his voice so close to your neck, you were definitely not used to this level of attention. “Okay, Hotch it is”. 

You grabbed your drinks, and he held the door open for you on the way out. He moved his hand from your back where you had gotten so used to it, and he walked right into the road. You watched as he lifted his hand, stopping traffic to let you cross alongside him. What you didn’t see, was Morgan looking out the window at you two, and beckoning the team to come see how Hotch was treating you. “Damn, he must really like coffee today”. Reid joined him at the window, “actually, Hotch always has a next level of confidence after a case ends well. Y/n must be his outlet for a good mood”. Rossi sat at his desk working on a file, “yeah.. Pretty nice outlet if you ask me”. 

The two of you came back into the meeting room, and you couldn’t help the blush you felt when you noticed the team all glance at each other at the site of you two. This kind of attention was okay you thought, as long as he’s the source. Hotch pulled out a chair for you to sit next to him, and the team gathered at the meeting table. 

After some deliberation, and completely downing your coffee, you all came to the conclusion that based on your ex’s habits and personality, it was almost definitely him. So you created a plan to lure him out and catch him in the act. Unfortunately for you however, this meant having to literally face your problem. The team seemed confident enough, but Hotch could feel your body stiffen at the thoughts running through your head. Since meeting you just a couple hours prior, it turned out he could read you like a book. You couldn’t tell yet, but he could. He caught your jaw tighten, and he gently placed his hand on your shoulder, “y/n, you do not have to do this. We can find another way if you cannot bring yourself to go through with this plan”. He was being kind, but you all knew that this was for the best. You softly grinned at him, “thank you, Hotch, but I can do this. I want to face him”. And with that, you all left to get into your various positions. 

The plan was simple. In one of the letters you received, he stated that once you finally realized he was the one meant for you, you would get a table for two at the restaurant you had your first date, and you would prove to him you meant it by waiting for one whole hour, sitting there. Alone, while he supposedly watched you and your body language, and would then arrive. You would be wearing a wire, and once he started threatening you in person and possibly making a scene, the BAU would swoop in and save the day. You were confident in your role, not that you had to do much. You borrowed some date-type clothing from Emily, and you were now heading into the restaurant wearing your wire. You knew that this could all go horribly wrong, but hopefully whatever did happen, brought an end to your unhappiness. 

Taking the 100th deep breath of the day, you told the hostess your party name and they sat you down at your table. Thankfully your waiter was in on what was going on, so they wouldn’t be asking you about food until your ex came and sat down. You felt so exposed, of course your table was in the dead centre of the restaurant. You weren’t aware of the agents stationed around you, Reid pointed out that if you knew too much then the stalker would be able to read your body language too well. So you say there, sucking on the ice cubes from your water knowing what a long night this was going to be. 

“How are you feeling, y/n?” Hotch scared the daylights out of you, causing you to swallow your ice cube by accident. You gasped, but recovered smoothly. You kept your face as straight as you could without openly talking to yourself, “you scared me, I didn’t know you’d be on the other end of this thing”. You heard him softly chuckle, easing the tension. “Well, having you wired would be pretty useless if we couldn’t hear each other”. You smiled to yourself. Obviously he was right, but for some reason you just didn’t clue in that it could be him, out of everyone on the team, to be the one consoling you tonight. Maybe they were in on how he made you feel. Mentally thanking Hotch for his presence, “you’re right, how silly of me. Here I am feeling all alone in here without realizing who has my back”. There was a small pause on the other end before he replied, “you are far from alone in there, y/n”. You didn’t think it was possible given the circumstances, but you felt safe here in that moment too. You swore you could feel his physical presence even through the tiny earpiece. 

Some time passed, and with talking as minimally as you could, you realized an hour was about to pass. Now you had to prepare yourself for the confrontation. You were fine, but emotionally and mentally, you were not thrilled for the exhaustion you knew you’d be feeling in the next few moments. Looking out the windows of the patio, you saw him. Walking oddly through the crowd to the front doors. You knew this was going to be some sort of confrontation, but honestly you didn’t think that far ahead of what you would be saying or doing. Sensing some heating tension between your ex and the hostess, you found yourself frozen to your spot. He was just supposed to come in, say his name and be escorted over, what was going on? The hostess knew what to do, so why was tension rising? “Hotch..” you whispered, trying to get his attention. You heard a very quiet “don’t move”, before seeing your ex flash a gun hidden in his waistband. If you weren’t frozen before, you sure were by now. He hadn’t seen you yet, which was good. Maybe they’ll get to him before he gets to you. Slowly standing up from your seat with no intention to do anything but drop dead, you felt yourself taking a step towards him. You didn’t know why but something inside you told you that this whole thing was a mistake, and whatever was about to happen was your own fault, and you needed to stop it. You could talk to him and calm him down, that’s what your whole relationship was based on anyway. He just needed to be with you, and he would stop the hostility. 

As you were taking your third step in his direction, Hotch stepped in front of you, holding out the side of his jacket to stop your ex from seeing you. You felt his other arm ghost around your waist, his cologne seeping into the dress you borrowed. “Don’t let him see me..” you whispered. “I won’t let him do anything to you, y/n”. You let Hotch take the lead and guide you into the kitchen, out of harm's way. You didn’t realize you were quietly crying until you were standing against the cool tile wall, and Hotch brushed a tear away with his thumb. He went to leave, presumably to help arrest the man who was going to kill you. Before he could take another step, you grabbed his hand more forcefully than you thought you had the strength to. “Please, don’t leave me”. Hotch saw the pleading look in your eyes, and leaned into his phone, “take care of it, Morgan”. You let yourself quietly cry against the wall, facing Hotch. You were so incredibly embarrassed, this was all your fault. You should have realized who your stalker was immediately and squashed this whole problem by yourself. The fact that someone was being arrested right now because of you, made you sick. Sure, it was in order to keep you safe, but you still felt like a burden. The FBI shouldn’t be here. This shouldn’t have happened. 

Hotch couldn’t bring himself to just stand there and watch you fall apart, so he put his arms around you, gently squeezing you enough to make you feel present. You let yourself get your tears on his uniform, it was just something else to apologize for later. You almost collapsed, having all this mental weight pulling you down to the ground. Before you could fall, Hotch steadied you, pressing you against the wall in his hug to get you more grounded. The feeling of the cold tile against the back of your neck helped center you. Hotch let you go slowly, testing to see if you would stay standing without him. It tore him up inside seeing cases like these, and yours was no different. Now letting you stand on your own, the two of you held eye contact. “Y/n, you are safe. You never have to see him again. He cannot hurt you. He can’t hurt you anymore”. It was like he was saying it to the both of you as a mantra, getting you to feel okay and safe, and to bring him back to reality. He wanted to keep you safe, to open every door for you and stop traffic for you. Bring you coffee whenever you asked and even when you didn’t. He wanted you to understand how important you were, and how this was not your fault. He knew you blamed yourself, he could see it in your face and in your tears. 

You weren’t crying anymore, but you were exhausted. You wanted Hotch to just pick you up and take you home, take you anywhere but here. There was something in his demeanor that made you feel like a flower next to him. This big FBI agent, holding you up against the wall making sure you don’t fall over. You were almost killed tonight and all you could think about was just how strong Hotch was. Not to mention how good he smelled. He moved his grip from around your shoulders, down to around your waist. He pulled you into another deep embrace, this one feeling more personal. You had your arms around him but under his jacket, letting it fall around the two of you. You pulled away at the same time, and you muttered a small “thank you”. 

He towered over you, and he still had a concerned look in his eyes. You could tell he wanted to say something, so you nodded to try and get it out of him. “We both know you are safe now. That man is going back to the police station to be processed as the criminal he is..” he stopped, but you knew he wasn’t finished. You let him breath before continuing, “y/n, you live alone and today your life was threatened. You deserve to sleep somewhere tonight where you do not have to worry about a single thing”. He was right. You wanted to stay awake all night, knowing the moment you’d step back into your apartment you’d feel like you were in a cage. Your parents lived just outside the city, maybe you could have a police escort. But it was so late, and you hated the idea of waking up your parents just to baby you tonight. You knew exactly where you wanted to be, but how can you ask an FBI agent to extend his duties into watching over you through the night? All these thoughts raced through your mind in the second it took Hotch to open his mouth again, “I have an idea but the last thing I want is for you to feel pressured into saying yes, or scaring you off”. Now you were interested, the evening seemed to be playing out in your favour afterall. He continued, “y/n, the team and I are staying at the hotel downtown. I would be more than happy to pull some strings, and say we need an extra room for the night. We leave in the morning, but you’d be on a floor filled with FBI agents”. You accepted the offer maybe a little quickly, but thankfully he wasn’t put off with your enthusiasm. You leaned in again and held his suit collar, “thank you, Hotch. All I want is to feel safe tonight”. Looking up at him, a million thoughts crossed your mind all at once. You wanted to hire this man as your personal bodyguard. With the look you saw in his eye, he might even say yes. The next few moments were only seconds apart, but they felt like an eternity. Hotch placed his hands around your jaw, tilting your head up towards him. He looked at you with ocean’s in his eyes and whispered again like you were the only two in the entire building, “I can keep you safe, y/n”, before leaning in and giving you a kiss so grounding you swore he had you in the palm of his hand. 

“Guys, we’re good let’s head back - “ Morgan cut himself off when he saw Hotch removing his hands from you. Hotch cleared his throat, “y/n will be staying at the hotel with us tonight. I don’t think it would be wise for her to go back home alone”. You were hoping Morgan couldn’t see you holding on to Hotch’s forearm like your life depended on it. He got the idea, and the 3 of you left in the SUV back downtown. 

Once you entered the lobby, the team went up to their rooms as Hotch took you to the front desk. He enquired about getting an extra room just for you, and the manager handed you your key for the night. Slowly making your way up to the shared floor, you started to digest all the events that happened during your day. You almost got lost in your own brain, but Hotch pulled you back out when he placed his hand on the small of your back with confidence, leading you out into the hallway. You found your room, just a couple door’s down from where Hotch said he was. You were excited to be staying in a fancy hotel, even for just one night. As much as you wanted Hotch to come in with you, you knew he was technically still at work. But once again as if he could read your mind, Hotch was the one to open your door and see you inside safely. You took in your room. It was gorgeous with a king bed and a view for days. Putting your things down on the bed, you looked to Hotch, who seemed to be fidgeting slightly. He had been so confident in front of you all day, what was making him act like that?

“Is there anything else you need? I’d be happy to get anything-”, “thank you Hotch, really. But I have everything that I need right here in this room”. You gave him another soft smile, and you went to see him out. Your door was still closed, and Hotch was reaching to open it. He turned back around to you without realizing how close you were standing behind him. “If you change your mind, I’m just a couple doors down. I don’t sleep much, so it won’t be hard to get me”. You thought to yourself and spoke, “actually, I don’t sleep much either. I’ve had insomnia since I was a child”. 

“Really?” he asked you, returning a smirk. “Really”, you offered. You moved around him and leaned against the door, wanting to continue the conversation. Hotch took another guess at what you wanted, and he slowly pressed himself against your small frame, holding you in place. You let out a small sigh, showing him you didn’t mind at all. He took your waist in his hands for the second time that evening, and placed his lips against yours. He kissed you so softly and so gently, you thought you were going to float away. And his grip on you said he felt the same way. Digging his fingers harder into your waist asking permission to deepen the kiss, you granted him access. You opened your mouth to heat the moment, and Hotch was thrilled. He was pressing you into the door like he was afraid you’d otherwise fall through the floor. You were on your tiptoes kissing him and he wouldn’t let you feel any of your weight. You were completely pinned, and you loved it. You felt so secure between him and the door, knowing you were not going anywhere without him guiding you there first. He was protecting you with everything he could, never allowing you to go more than a split second without having his mouth on you. 

If the two of you couldn’t sleep, you wouldn’t mind being pinned all night long. Hotch was huge, towering over you from the moment you met. But he had the softest eyes you’d ever seen. He was kissing you like it was keeping you alive, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it was. You were gripping his shirt in your fists, seeing what he would allow you to do under his restrictions. He let you run your hands all over him, encouraging him to do the same to you. The two of you broke away at the same time for air. He looked down at you like you could break if he said the wrong thing. “If this is helping at all, I can stay longer if you need me-” you answered the lame question with a sloppy kiss on his neck, “Hotch, please stay with me”. With that, he gathered you in his arms and brought you to the bed.

_______________________

should i do a part 2?? 

#criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #reader insert #hotch x you #criminal minds x you #spencer reid #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #fluff #criminal minds fluff #derek morgan #emily prentiss

[revirushifaa]

OK, but imagine MC dying of old age while their daughter is still super young and Lucifer doing his best as a single dad for centuries as their daughter grows from the terrible twos into the teenage rebellious streak that definitely didn't come from him (it did).

Haaah, more papa Sushifer is in order! This is already fun, so I'll give up a scenario!

Enjoy!

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Daughter of Pride:

MC is gone. His partner is gone, and now the only thing that was left of them, was their one-year-old daughter, Lucille. While Lucifer was still a little mournful over his mate's loss, he promised to them that he would be the one raising their firstborn, it was a promise that he won't break, he did his best with the raising alone, after all he had experience with raising children.

Lucille was a demon like her father so she aged differently from her human parent so it was only natural that MC died without seeing their daughter grow up, something that torment them even to the last moment of their life. Lucifer didn't wish to remember that sad day. It had to be one of the most saddest days of his long life.

Please, MC, my dearest... stay with me

Lucifer... take good care of my little girl. Tell her that I love her... I love you too, both of you...

With that last sentence and warm smile, MC stopped living. He was so devastated that he turned himself colder around everyone... but his daughter. Lucille was the only living being left from his mate, the one who he had to protect and raise. It wasn't an easy task, normally, MC was who took care of her the major part while he was absent in business with Diavolo.

But he had promised with his heart to MC, that Lucille would be cared for and raised well. Just looking his daughter, it remembered him of MC. While she had his body form and face features, her hair and her eyes were MC's, it was like seeing his beloved in their daughter, which he took as comfort. He would nuzzle Lucille at nights and snuggled her in bed, the baby half demoness had MC's calid smile and laugh, but she had also inherited that hard attitude from Lucifer. It was a mix, of hard and soft.

"You are my pride and joy, Lucille. Never forget that, daughter mine."

What he would always murmur in her small ears as he snuggled her and cradled her. With his daughter with him, he didn't become full isolated to his room, if he had lost both MC and Lucille, then Lucifer wouldn't be sane at all. At least Lucille was safe and sound with him.

"No, Lucille. You cannot have sugar all three meals."

As the little demoness grew up, she was more hard to raise or to try to discipline. She was spoiled, that was true, and sometimes she turned out bratty.

"But I wanna sugar. SUGAR NOW!!"

"Lucille—"

"SUGAR!!!"

Sometimes her temper tantrums, gave Lucifer huge migraines and constant stress. It was when he used his major authorital tone, that he made her to stop acting up. And if that didn't work, then it was taking her privileges and sometime in the corner. He never hit her as a punishment. No. He just couldn't bring himself to do that, the demoness was only three and if he did that, he would be breaking an important promise that he had made to MC. Be fair with my little girl, Lu.

So physical discipline was a no-go with him. There were other ways that worked his way. Like when he grounded her from playing with her toys for three days. She would only study and practice her writing. No dessert as well. He had glared sternly at Beel, warning him to not be lenient when his daughter was grounded.

"That's it, young demoness. No toys or dessert for THREE days."

"But, Daddy-"

"No buts, or else I'll add another day to your grounding."

That was all to shut her savage mouth in protesting. Of course seeing her sob and cry because he was too harsh in speaking to her, always made his heart hurt. He would always tone down his voice and speak more gentler to her, explaining why he did that, and then fix the situation with offering to do a compromise, if she was well-behaved and willing to it.

As she reached into adolescense, that was a huge stress to the poor prideful father. Lucille at 16 was such a pain in the butt. Demanding and rebellious, a huge picky eater and a true brat.

"I will be clear with you, young demoness. If you give me an ounce of attitude, then your D.D.D will be confiscated for a month, you won't go out during that time and will be put on chores duty for until I see an improvement in your behavior. And you will write three thousand times I will not disrespect or disobey my father. Clear?

Lucille would huff at how strict her father had turned himself into. But she hadn't known that it was all her part to have put him that way. Lucifer was fair if she was fair, it was a cycle of giving and giving back. Lucille behaved, Lucifer rewarded her. Lucille misbehaved, then Lucifer punished her.

"Father, when did you turn like an old boring grandpa? I only want to have fun! You can't keep me as your prisoner in this boring house!"

"Lucille, I demand more respect from you. This is your father, speaking to you. And I never said that I would keep you here all the time. But first things first. Do your school work and then you can go out. Do we have a compromise?"

"Fine. We have a compromise, Dad."

Lucifer would smile a bit softly, when the young demoness was reasonable.

"That's my good, little demoness." He would end it with a kiss to the top of her hair, before departing from her and going to do his own work and the demoness would go to do her own thing as promised.

Sometimes the lying habit came to Lucille and because of her, Mammon got in many trouble when it was all her buying the latest of fashion clothes.

"How do you explain this, Mammon?"

"Hey, what have you gotten into you?! I don't buy girly stuff! Maybe you should ask Lucille!"

....

"LUCILLE!!!!"

"What?"

She would come to him with a nonchalant look, as she's wearing highly expensive clothes and from that, is when Lucifer realized that it's all his daughter and not his greedy brother.

"So it was you who spent all of our money to please your nonsense..."

"Nonsense, Dad? I am a demoness in need of good clothes and looks! What if I find some good looking human in the future? They wouldn't like a normie, like how Uncle Levi dubs it!"

Lucifer's poor head throbs with absolute pain and stress. Ugh his daughter, is again causing him to go grey at just the age that he was at currently.

"Apologize to your uncle and then go to your room and write three thousand times I will not lie and blame my uncle into buying items that I don't need. Right now. March."

"But, Dad!"

"No 'but Dad'. Now, Young demoness. Or else, I will make you write it fifteen thousand times. How is it going to be?"

"I'm sorry, Uncle Mammon..."

And after her uncle acknowledged her apology, she went up to her room to do that, with a sad face, she didn't want at all to make her father disappointed today. Lucifer took notice of it, but decided to wait until she was done with the writings to talk about it.

It was several hours but she was done, and her handwriting had gotten better, it was because of the writing punishments that it got better, seeing as this was a very common punishment that her father doled out to her when she was being disobedient or a brat.

"I...I'm done..." she said in a quiet voice.

Lucifer had looked up from the papers that he was signing. He frowned softly, the demoness hadn't realized it but she had a few tears rushing down her cheeks. His firm tone from before had softened to that gentle tone, as he approached her and pulled her into his hold.

"I hope this will be enough to end your lying habit. I do not like seeing you sad, but you know I cannot let you get away with something that you have done wrong. It is okay now. You have learned and there is not reason for me to keep mad."

He had soft-spoken to her, the way that she knew that he wasn't mad or disappointed anymore. But Lucille couldn't help feeling bad either way. She in fact, never liked putting her dad mad or disappointed in her, she let the silent tears trickle down. Lucifer said nothing, his comfort was always silent and he showed it with actions rather than words. He held her in his arms, all the time that she needed.

"I'm sorry I disappointed you, Dad..."

"There's no need to apologize now, this case has been solved. Don't beat yourself too much over it, your uncle had forgiven you, I have forgotten about it. It's all okay, Lulu."

And by calling her by her special nickname that he had for her, she knew all was well. She hugged more but to show him that she actually loved him so deeply. Lucifer already knew that, he loved his daughter with all his life, it didn't matter how much trouble she was, that wouldn't change anything.

He might be cold, stern and everything else that others said of him behind his back, but the love of a father was above everything else. He loved his demoness quite so much, so that was what was important.

"I love you, Dad. And I mean it."

"I love you too, daughter mine, with all my heart."

#obey me imagines #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me lucifer

[milenadaniels]

Before the Night Fades, 8.6k - POV Outsider on Buck/Eddie double date shenanigans (AO3)

“I have a bottle of champagne, four champagne flutes, one engagement ring to go into one of those champagne flutes, and a note to deliver it all to table 34 with dessert,” Tomas explains, wide-eyed, throwing his hand back to the prep station where said champagne is waiting on ice next to four flutes and a small ring box.

“Okay?”

“Okay so there’s two men and two women and I have no idea who’s getting proposed to. I’m not even 100% on who came with who."

---

Or, EddieAna and BuckTaylor double date and it ruins everyone's night.

The nearly-post-COVID return to normal rush is going exactly as well as management at the Tilted Cactus expected it would, which is to say it’s going as miserably as the waitstaff at the Tilted Cactus expected it would.

The owners lost a lot of money to lockdowns, diminished capacity and the general (extremely warranted) paranoia of co-mingling in public during an international plague for the sake of overpriced appetizers. And despite accurately predicting the business would boom once the doors re-opened, management didn’t feel the need to account for more staff to serve said business.

So despite owing $34k on her student loans (that’s after a generous gift from both her parents and her maternal grandmother), barely being able to afford rent in LA, and the utter lack of career prospects, Mere is taking a break in the backroom, next to the dirty mop bucket, mentally running through her finances before she officially gives her notice.

She can’t quit, she knows that.

Turns out leaving New Zealand for LA with nothing but a dream and the idea that if Taika could do it so could she was not the most future-proof plan she could have come up with. The starving artist thing was so 2010.

But Mere’s made up her mind. She’s not made for this abuse. This is bullshit. She’s going to pack up, go home, and you know, do...something else. She’ll figure it out.

Mere pulls herself up from her indelicate crouch on some empty crates and goes in search of a piece of paper — or a fucking napkin, who cares — on which to write up her official resignation.

“No, in section 3A,” she hears Tomas fake-whisper. He’s one of the few new hires to grace these hallowed halls and still thinks it’s disrespectful to talk shit about customers even in the backroom. Umida, a five year veteran of this distinguished profession, has been trying to disabuse him of this particular nonsense.

“Where the fuck is section 3A, Tommy? We have sections 1 to 9, we don’t have any letters.”

“The new sidewalk sections have letters, to distinguish them from inside.”

“You mean sections 10 and 11?”

“...Mr. Peters said they’re using letters.”

“Mr. Peters can swallow my entire ass. The sidewalk sections are literally right outside the door from 9, why would they not be called 10 and 11?”

“Or ‘Hell On Earth’ and ‘Kill Me Please’, as we call them colloquially,” Mere offers, startling Tomas as she pushes through the swinging door she’d been hiding behind. Patio dining is highly encouraged and an excellent way to dine if one has patios. The Tilted Cactus does not have patios. It has a temporary license to put tables on the dirty sidewalk outside their restaurant, where waitstaff get to weave around pedestrians, dogs, and carts like they’re completing an obstacle course.

“Yeah, those work,” Umida agrees, emphasizing her point with a dispirited index finger in Mere’s direction.

“Okay, whatever,” Tomas says with a pained eye roll. “Can you please just check it out and let me know?”

“What’s happening?” Mere asks. She’s leaving this popsicle stand (ideally, on fire as she walks away slowly into the night) but she’s also starved of both human attention and the inherent drama of the culinary world so she’ll be damned if she misses out on one final showdown.

Tomas takes a breath to steel himself. “I have a bottle of champagne, four champagne flutes, one engagement ring to go into one of those champagne flutes, and a note to deliver it all to table 34 with dessert,” Tomas explains, wide-eyed, throwing his hand back to the prep station where said champagne is waiting on ice next to four flutes and a small ring box.

“Okay?”

“Okay so there’s two men and two women and I have no idea who’s getting proposed to. I’m not even 100% on who came with who.”

“You don’t have gaydar where you come from?” Umida asks in perfect deadpan.

Tomas glares harder, crosses his arms and juts one hip out. “I come from San Francisco. We invented gaydar. I’m saying I’m pretty sure the guys are together, but I’m also pretty sure they’re each with the women they’re sitting next to. So figure that out.”

“Like a double thruple?” Mere asks, now actually becoming curious.

“Like a ‘I don’t know what y’all are smoking this far north but I don’t understand your weird relationship dynamics and I’m still on probation and I can’t lose this job because I can’t move back in with my brother because I will murder him and I can’t be an only child with aging parents in this economy so can you please just go out there and tell me what the fuck is happening so I can throw this ring at the right person and punch out sometime before I ‘accidentally’ fall on the meat clever downstairs?’ kind of situation.”

Umida and Mere share a glance.

“Okay, well, don’t despair, new guy,” Mere says with a pat on his arm. “Save the meat cleaving for the capitalist elite. We got you. Let the pros handle this.”

“What did the note say?” Umida asks. “One ‘e’ or two? We can at least eliminate half of our options.”

Tomas does not check the note to spot whether the note-taker had written ‘fiancé’ or ‘fiancée’. He stares them down and fips the note in his fingers so the text faces them.

“It says ‘finance’.”

“Ah.”

“We’re going to need a more hands-on investigation, then,” Mere announces.

—————————-

Mere goes first, only because Umida was on her way to swap a side dressing for her table when Tomas intercepted her.

Mere carries a jug of water and makes the rounds of the outdoor tables, trying to hold in her visible distaste for the pseudo-patio vibe the owners tried to make happen out here. There’s a bike stand and a taxi stand two feet from where people are trying to have a romantic dinner. Every now and again, the LA traffic gets rowdy and noisy, completely butchering the atmosphere. There’s a shitty speaker funneling in some Frank Sinatra but it really does nothing to help.

But after this mystery is solved, none of this will be her problem anymore.

Like Tomas said, there are two men and two women sitting like cardinal points around a round table. The women are on the north and east ends, the men on the south and west ones. Two of them are brunets, one a redhead, and one a blond. They’re all disgustingly gorgeous.

And that’s all she’s got.

“The ravioli sounds so good,” the brunette woman says, casting a look at the brunet man to her side.

“Yeah, it does,” he says.

“Mm,” the blond man disagrees. “It’s got feta.”

“What’s wrong with feta?” Asks the redheaded woman.

“Absolutely nothing is wrong with feta,” he responds with a superior smile directed at the man next to him who’s preemptively adopting the look of someone ready to hear some bullshit. “Unless you have an underdeveloped palate and are simply overwhelmed by such strong delicacies as a moderately salty cheese.”

“Okay, don’t talk to me about an underdeveloped palate, Pennsylvania,” the other man responds, posturing despite the softness of his eyes.

“Hey, I said nothing to besmirch the great state of Texas. Texas is a wonder of culinary delight. I’m saying you’re...a simple man.”

“Feta’s disgusting and that’s a hill I’m willing to die on,” the brunet says with smug finality, holding the other man’s eyes until they’re both smirking and looking back at their menus.

Well then.

Mere’s a little bummed as she fills the water at table 36. She’d been hoping the mystery would run longer than 2 whole minutes, but these guys are definitely together. So the mystery will only come down to who’s getting eng—

“Thankfully Chris inherited a more refined palate,” the blond man — Pennsylvania — chirps as the last word.

“He did,” the brunette woman chimes in with a playful smile. “He loves my cooking. You both loved that greek salad I made last week, didn’t you? That had feta in it.”

“It did!” the brunet man replies, slipping his hand overtop hers. “And I loved it. So clearly context is a factor.”

Mere almost spills the rest of the water all over the lady at table 38 as she takes in the man and woman mooning at each other. Though if it’s any consolation, the redheaded woman looks as unimpressed as Mere feels.

“Yeah, I have no idea,” Mere reports back to Tomas.

“The redheads are playing footsie under the table now. That’s one couple at least right?” Tomas asks. The two of them are parked behind the bar where they can see through the window outside but the exterior tint prevents anyone outside from seeing them. The bar is still used for pouring drinks but the stools are gone — can’t maintain 6 feet between them — so the staff pretty much have the run of this corner of the restaurant.

“He’s not a redhead,” Mere mutters, looking out the window to catch the action. “It’s like a dark blond. And I don’t know, I’m pretty sure the two brunets are together, but then blond guy’s foot is way into the other guy’s space.” For a moment she’s distracted by just how damn long his legs are. “That’s certainly...familiar.”

“They’re lesbians,” Umida declares when she returns from dropping off plates at table 32.

“They’re lesbians?” Tomas parrots skeptically. “I did not get that vibe.”

“I could see lesbian for the redhead, I think,” Mere says. “Don’t know about the brunette.”

“Lesbians come in all flavours,” Umida informs them haughtily. It’s the start of Pride month and her hijab is held together by an “Ally” pin. “You can’t tell someone’s orientation just by looking at them.”

“But you’ve declared them lesbians,” Mere points out.

“Because lesbians are approaching their table and only lesbians know other lesbians.”

“That’s definitely not true,” Tomas reproaches.

“No, she’s right, lesbians coming up!” Mere watches as two more unfairly gorgeous women approach with two young boys in tow. Honestly, screw LA and their beauty standards. The parties look surprised to see each other, but they clearly know each other well. One of the boys stays with the women, but the other one breaks off to join the table.

“No, I mean you can know lesbians without being a lesbian.”

Umida and Mere ignore him.

“Okay, that’s one of their kids, right?” Umida asks. “Lesbians babysitting for date night?”

“He’s got Pennsylvania’s curls,” Mere agrees. "That's the blond guy, by the way, I think he’s from there. Brunet guy is Texas for the time being."

The boy reaches the table and is pulled into a strong hug by Texas, who then directs him to a hug with the brunette.

“Oh, unexpected.” Mere would have sworn he was a dead ringer for Pennsylvania. “But okay, that confirms the hand-holding I saw. We have a set of parents. And unless this is a super modern table, I don’t see the parents being here on dates with other people.”

“Mm, I don’t know.” Umida dithers. “That’s like an auntie hug, not a parent hug. Like if she is the mom, the kid is not happy with her.”

“Wait,” Tomas says.

The boy is wiggling out of Brunette’s grasp and rounding the table to Pennsylvania who’s waiting with a wide smile and open arms, and instead of letting go after, the boy finagles his way onto Pennsylvania’s lap to steal a breadstick. Pennsylvania reaches into the basket for another breadstick to pass to the little boy still waiting with his moms and Mere’s heart tugs a little.

Texas watches on from across the table with unrestrained fondness. His leg shifts to press against Pennsylvania’s who looks up with a smile.

“Boom, gay dads!” Tomas crows.

“And lesbians,” Umida adds.

“Redhead definitely has no part of this,” Mere notes. The woman is smiling but it’s polite and practised, not warm or welcoming. “I guess the brunets could be siblings maybe? Really close siblings?”

Finally, the babysitters make to leave so Pennsylvania kisses the boy’s temple and guides him back to his feet. Texas presses his own kiss to the boy’s curls as he passes, saying something they can’t make out from behind the glass. Brunette gets only a wave as he leaves.

“Gays and lesbians,” Umida concludes smugly.

“Okay, good,” Tomas sighs with relief. “So we know who the couples are, now who’s gettin—”

“Um,” Mere interrupts, pointing at the table.

Redhead’s foot is making its way up Pennsylvania’s leg and he shoots her a grin.

“For fuck’s sake,” Tomas spits as he walks away.

“Did you even take their order yet?” Mere calls after him. He doesn’t answer.

———-

Mere gets pulled away because now that she’s not quitting in outrage until this table 34 drama is over, she figures she should actually get back to work. Happily, having not seen her for the last 20 minutes, Mikael figured she had left or died and had taken over her section. She agrees to split half the tips with him and lets herself be pulled back into the tide of madness.

“Got it figured yet, Tim-Tam?” she asks when she passes him near the bathrooms.

“The guys are sharing their orders,” he says despondently.

“That’s not that incriminating. I split my orders with people. I’m not about to pay full price to discover if I like something.”

“No,” Tomas glares before gesturing to the window with disgust. “They’re sharing their orders.”

Tomas stalks away to hopefully take an herbal break to calm down and Mere goes back to the window just in time to catch the insanity. Mere feels Umida come up behind her and tries to suppress her shiver when her “what in all that is holy” skates across her bare shoulder.

Pennsylvania has just finished piling some of his spaghetti on Texas’ plate, which is exceedingly normal. But now Pennsylvania is reaching for Texas' burger.

“He didn’t cut that,” Umida notes.

“No, he did not.”

They have pretty messy burgers at Tilted Cactus, ones that are hard to share because if you cut them down the middle they tend to lose structural integrity. Of course, this isn’t a big concern if you’re sharing already-bitten-into burgers. Which these absolute freaks are doing.

“Gays and lesbians,” Umida declares again, the earlier smugness replaced with an air of disgust.

But when Umida walks away, Mere watches Brunette wipe something off Texas’ cheek and frowns. One throuple and redheaded side piece? Maybe?

————

“I’m struggling with lesbians as a theory,” Mere tells Umida the next chance she gets at the pickup counter. “I want to believe, but…”

“Yeah, I’m doubting now too. They’re almost exclusively talking to each other. But then I realized it was more getting-to-know-you conversation and this would be a hell of a weird first date.”

“Huh, so heteros all around?”

“Well, I also caught on that they’re spending all this time talking to each other because the guys are like in their own world. Finishing each others’ —”

“Sandwiches?”

“Exactly,” Umida grins, unexpectedly delighted by the reference. “So I don’t know. I really don’t envy Tommy.”

“Me either.”

“Hey Manish,” Umida yells out to the other side of the pickup window, “I’m picking up for Lenore but she’s got a two-seater, why do I have four dishes here?”

“Because Lenore can’t write for shit,” Mere says, picking up the order slip and squinting at the scrawl. “These are for table 24, not 29. It’s a four-seater.”

“Alright, well I guess you’re helping me, then,” Umida says with a wink.

Umida is fully capable of carrying four dishes on her own but she’s asking Mere to come with her so Mere’s already reaching for the plates, hoping the blush on her cheek can be written off as heat from the kitchen.

————-

During a slow stretch, Mere takes it upon herself to refill water and wine glasses in section 10.

From table 32 she can hear them talking about elementary school workloads.

“Oh, ah, I meant to let you know,” Pennsylvania says to Redhead, sitting up in his seat. “I can’t make it to the movies next Friday, can we move it to the next week? I should know my schedule by Wednesday.”

“Sure,” Redhead says with a hint of bite to her pleasant smile. “But I thought you had Friday off.”

“I do,” Pennsylvania says, his lips curving into a small, excited smile, “but Christopher won his class’ public speaking competition and they’re doing a kind of show of all the winners for the parents, and it’s on Friday.”

Mere moves around table 34 and heads for table 36 next, but catches the looks of discomfort on every face aside from Pennsylvania’s. He doesn’t realize he’s said something wrong, but the rest of them have.

“Isn’t that just during school hours?” Brunette woman asks.

Texas hesitates before saying, “yeah, but we’re taking him to Universal after to celebrate.”

Out of pity, Mere doubles back to table 34 and reaches for his water glass to fill. People tend to keep their drama buckled while the waitstaff is there. And sure enough, Redhead glances up and paints a tense smile on her face.

��Yeah, not a problem. That sounds exciting.”

There’s a bite to her words, and by the way his shoulders tense and his fingers curl more tightly around his fork, Texas seems to have picked up on it.

————-

By the end of the entrees, most of the staff have caught onto Tomas’ predicament and one by one everyone from the table-bussers to the cooks have gone out for a smokeless smoke break to try to be the one to divine what the hell is happening at table 34.

None are successful.

“This isn’t even like a romantic date,” Mani laments. “Like none of them are that dressed up and they’re talking about like natural disasters and shit. I don’t get a proposal vibe from like any of them.”

“Who even goes on a double date to propose? Who does that? It’s so tacky!” Gabby says from behind the bar where she’s helping herself to a quick nip before she heads home.

“Who still thinks the ring in the champagne bit is a good idea, is my question. It’s a choking hazard!” Mere says. “How romantic to start off your engagement with a trip to the ER.”

Tomas ignores them all. He looks about 10 minutes away from saying to hell with his probationary status and drinking the next hour away straight out of the vodka bottle at his elbow. “I know it’s Pride and I should be representing but I could really do with a little heteronormativity right now.”

—————-

Tomas is stalling.

Table 34 asked for dessert, of course, and when he vaguely floated the idea of champagne, Texas had readily agreed, so this is happening. The champagne flutes are lined up on a tray, the champagne in them is warming with every minute that passes, and he is no closer to figuring out what to do.

“What if I put all the glasses in the middle and they have to pick which one they want?”

“Okay but the person getting proposed to tonight likely doesn’t know?” Mikael says.

“What if you pretend you didn’t see the instructions?” Shania pitches. “As if we can ever write stuff down correctly anyway. Just say it said to bring out the champagne but nothing about the ring being in a flute! Just hand it back to the proposer and let them get it done.”

“You think we don’t know who the proposee is but we know who the proposer is?” Tomas bites. “If I knew that, Shania, I could have just called them away with a phone call or something and asked them who to give the flute to.”

“Geez,” Shania exclaims, hopping off the bar counter to walk away. “You try to help…”

“And then there were three,” Mario announces as he comes back from another completely unnecessary round of filling water glasses outside.

Tomas’ head snaps up from where he’d been staring into the countertops. “What?”

They all rush to the window and sure enough: Redhead is gone.

“I didn’t see her come in,” Mere says, almost breathlessly. If she’d come in to use the restroom, they would have seen her.

“No, she’s gone-gone,” Mario supplies. “Said she had to get back to work but I’m pretty sure she just wanted out. That’s the chick from the news, you know?”

“People still watch the news?” Mere wondered aloud.

Tomas tsks. “Redhead was the least probable suspect!”

“Well we can rule out Brunette and Pennsylvania as a couple, right?” Umida asks, waiting briefly for the gathered crowd to nod. “Okay, so we’re down to the brunets together, or Pennsylvania and Texas.”

“Or polyamorous,” Mikael sniffs. Mikael is trying polyamory. He doesn’t know there’s a bet going on how long he’ll last. It’s a fine relationship style to get into but one he and his jealousy and insecurity issues are deeply unsuited for.

“Apologies, Mikael, or polyamorous. So you have...yeah, 3 of 3 options left for that ring,” Umida grimaces.

“Wait!” So-Hee cries. She’s supposed to be hosting at the entrance but COVID-19 protocols mean people don’t show up earlier than 5 minutes before their reservation so the podium isn’t very backed up. “What does the ring look like? That could be a clue, right?”

They look to Tomas, whose face is blank.

“You didn’t look?” Mere accuses him, though to be fair it never occurred to her either.

So-Hee pounces on the deep purple velvet box without waiting for Tomas to answer.

“Please god,” Tomas mumbles, grabbing the box out of her hands and prying it open with almost reckless enthusiasm.

All six members of staff currently on duty at the window crowd around, many heads bumping together to catch a glimpse. The ring nestled in the box has a slim, dainty band with a solitaire diamond jutting out proudly, with filigree details on either side.

“Oh thank sweet baby Jesus, that is a woman’s ring!” Tomas nearly yells.

“It could be a man’s ring,” Umida protests weakly, almost sad to see the drama come to an end.

Mere’s a little put out too if she’s being honest. But even if they couldn’t tell from the design, the sizing is way too small to fit on either of table 34’s men’s fingers, as So-Hee demonstrates by plucking the ring up and sliding it onto her own tiny finger.

“Yeah, get it stuck on your sweaty fingers, So-Hee,” Tomas protests almost hysterically, feeling his win come into danger. He wrestles it back off her finger and shoves it back in the box before taking a deep cleansing breath.

“Okay, I’ve got a dessert course to deliver,” he says, the picture of calm professionalism as if he hasn’t spent the last hour losing his entire shit.

———-

They should disperse then, but like brothers in arms after battle, all of them feel the need to stand guard as Tomas prepares to deliver the goods.

Some of them, like So-Hee, stand because they’ve foolishly become emotionally invested in the upcoming nuptial bliss.

Some of them, like Umida, stand because they fell in love with their version of events and they feel the need to properly mourn for what might have been.

“They’re co-parenting that boy,” Umida grumbles. “We all saw that! They can’t deny that!”

And some of them, like Mere, stand because they really can’t be bothered to get back to work.

But stand together they do as Tomas plops the ring in one flute and carries the tray out.

“Excuse me,” comes a voice off to the side of their group.

So-Hee, ever the consummate people-pleaser, actually turns to take care of the customer. The rest of them stay fixed at the window. “Yes, sir, can I help you?”

“Maybe? I couldn’t help but notice that young man taking some champagne out.”

“Yes, would you like to order a bottle as well?” So-Hee pokes Mikael. “We’d be happy to bring some out to you.”

“Ah, no,” the man says. “Well, yes. But I’ve already ordered some. I called earlier, when I reserved my table.”

Mere stiffens, her sixth sense borne of years of customer service piquing. Beside her, Umida takes note as well.

“I asked that champagne be brought to the table with dessert, and I left a box...one that looks a lot like the one on your counter there. And I’m sure it’s just a coincidence but I couldn’t help but want to make sure it’s not my ring that just went out to that other table.”

Mere’s wide eyes spring to Umida’s.

“Oh my fuck,” Umida whispers.

Then they’re both racing for the door.

“Wrong table, wrong table, wrong table,” Mere mutters under her breath as she dodges a stroller and a dog walker trying to reach Tomas —

“Oh, Edmundo!” Brunette exclaims brightly.

Umida’s hand braces Mere like a soccer mom in a car.

It’s too late now.

There’s nothing they can do but watch this trainwreck happen.

Happily, Redhead vacated the seat nearest to them so they have an unobstructed view of Brunette’s eyes filling with tears, of Texas’ wide eyes, and of Pennsylvania’s face losing all colour.

From context, Texas is the Edmundo Brunette is so pleased with.

But Edmundo is shaking his head, his brow furrowed. “I...wha— ”

Pennsylvania comes back to himself first, though the smile he paints on his face is strained and frail. “Ah, con — congratulations.”

“Wha— Buck, no.”

Pennsylvania — Buck — stands up from the table like a colt learning to walk, his eyes darting across the table without landing anywhere. “I — ah — I should let you guys celebrate.”

“Buck, no, I—” Edmundo’s voice is firmer now, his hand darting out to reach for Buck, and Brunette starts to catch on that nobody’s getting down on one knee with a flowery speech.

“Edmundo?” she calls, her bright smile dimming.

Edmundo looks torn and trapped in equal measure, and Mere wonders for a heartbreaking moment if maybe he’s as confused about his relationships as the Tilted Cactus employees have been tonight.

With a sigh, and a reminder that she’s out of this place like Cinderella at midnight, Mere falls on the proverbial meat cleaver. Stepping around Umida’s still outstretched arm, Mere weaves herself in front of Tomas just in case there’s any physical fallout, and pitches her voice low so the neighbouring tables will have to strain to listen in.

“Excuse me, my name is Mere, I’m the assistant manager. I am so sorry to inform you there’s been a terrible mistake. We’ve delivered a ring to your table that was destined to another this evening. We apologize deeply for any confusion this has caused and we will of course be comping your meals.”

“It—Oh.” Brunette’s eyes land on the ring on her finger, and her remaining excitement implodes into embarrassment so quickly and resoundly that Mere’s surprised it doesn’t produce an audible sound. The fingers of her opposite hand grip the ring and pause for a moment before slipping it off. There’s no box to slip it into so Mere holds out her hand, the other tucked neatly behind her back.

“Thank you,” Mere says quietly. “Please forgive us for the mistake. We will be investigating what happened so it never happens again.”

“Of course,” Brunette says lightly, forcing some life back into her voice. “I’m sure you didn’t mean any harm by it.”

Her eyes lift then and take in the scene across from her. Edmundo and Buck still standing, Edmundo’s hand wrapped round Buck’s wrist to keep him from leaving, and her eyes shutter once more.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to freshen up,” she says politely, rising from her seat and escaping into the restaurant.

Edmundo watches her go but says nothing, frozen still, holding onto the man beside him.

With all eyes more or less off them now, Mere gathers Tomas and Umida and hauls ass back into the restaurant.

————-

The ring is cleaned and inspected by Gareth, its actual owner, who is amiable enough to not escalate the situation further. His fiancée-to-be is none the wiser on any of these happenings — luckily their table, 29, is indoors — so his proposal is still on for the next course. But, just in case it doesn’t go the way Gareth hopes and he turns on them, Mere preemptively comps their meal too and congratulates him before he’s reseated.

On her way back to the kitchen, she grabs Lenore and uses the last hour of her completely fake authority to formally bar her from ever answering the phone again, or taking notes from the phone, or writing anything anywhere ever again. Lenore, having heard about the drama at table 34 and having seen the crying woman rush to the bathroom just now, accepts with little resistance.

And Mere, heart heavy with the weight of what they’ve done to this poor woman, mentally shakes her fist at her own curiosity and need for schadenfreude. If she’d bailed on this place an hour ago, she wouldn’t be leaving with this heartache by proxy.

As if beckoned by her thoughts, Brunette emerges from the bathroom just as Mere is crossing in front of it. She looks better, her tears packed away, and her cheeks only slightly reddened. Mere is about to offer her something — a glass of water? wine? a whole bottle? — when Edmundo steps into view. Mere doesn’t break stride until she’s behind the protection of the pay terminal privacy partition where she can see them but not be seen.

“Hey,” he says softly, his frame pretty loose and relaxed for a man who looked so troubled moments ago.

“Hey,” she returns with a forced smile.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know—”

Brunette cuts him off with a hand. “It’s not your fault. They made a mistake. It happens.”

Edmundo nods.

“But…” Brunette continues, fidgeting with the strap of her purse. “For a moment, it didn’t seem far-fetched that it...might be real, you know? I know we’ve been taking things slow, but we have been seeing each other for nearly a year now. And I thought… I don’t know what I thought, but it...it didn’t seem so far-fetched.”

Edmundo’s shoulders have grown tense, and it doesn’t escape Brunette’s notice. She smiles sadly.

“But then I looked up and you weren’t even looking at me. You were looking at Buck. You were so scared he would leave and that — that just doesn’t make sense, does it? I mean, even if the...the ring was a big misunderstanding, wouldn’t it have been better that he leave so we could talk about it privately? But you were scared, because he was upset… And if he was...I don’t know...upset that you hadn’t told him about this, you could have caught up later and discussed it, cleared it up.”

Edmundo says nothing, but he hangs his head and gnaws on his lower lip.

“But you were scared. Scared of him leaving in that moment. Scared...that he’d leave with the wrong idea? That he’d leave thinking you were — we were... ” Brunette sighs sharply. “I think I’ve been a fool.”

“You haven’t—” Edmundo tries to say.

“No, I have. It’s felt so many times like there’s been a third wheel in this relationship, and I genuinely didn’t realize until now that it was me. And maybe I’m naive but I’d like to think you didn’t realize it until today either. That you’re just as big a fool as I am. And maybe Buck is too.”

Edmundo opens his mouth twice to say something but nothing comes out. In the end, he settles on, “Ana, I’m sorry. I...didn’t realize. I don’t even know if I understand what I realize. But I...I know you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met and you didn’t deserve this.”

Brunette — Ana — smiles again sadly, and if a touch bitterly, she’s entitled to it.

“Thank you,” she says softly, before fidgeting with her purse strap again. “I’m going to go. You’ll...say goodbye to Buck for me?” Edmundo nods.

“Goodbye, Edmundo.”

“Take care, Ana,” he responds.

Ana takes a few steps before stopping and turning. “Good luck. I think…” she shakes her head before repeating, “good luck,” and leaving out the side doors.

Mere unglues herself from the privacy wall and slinks sadly back to the bar where she finds Tomas and Umida already halfway through a glass of red each. There’s a third, untouched glass waiting for her.

“We’re horrible people,” Mere decides. “Brunette and Texas just broke up.”

“We didn’t do this,” Umida protests half-heartedly. “Technically, Tomas did.”

“Ugh, you ass,” Tomas sputters. “The note said table 34, you all saw it. It’s Lenore’s fault.”

“It is Lenore’s fault,” Mere agrees before downing half her glass like a shot. Out the window, she can see Pennsyl — Buck — slumped in his chair, staring at the tablecloth. There’s a fresh bottle of wine on the table, two empty glasses at his and Edmundo’s places. Mere raises a glass at Tomas for the gesture.

“If they don’t end up drinking it, I’m taking it home,” Tomas says, “I already wrote it off.”

That’s fair.

Unfortunately for him, when Edmundo gets back to the table, he immediately pours them both a very full glass.

Buck straightens out in his chair, looking concerned and looking around for Ana, who doesn’t materialize. Edmundo says something that has Buck relaxing but looking guilty. Then Edmundo shuffles closer and puts a hand back on Buck’s wrist.

“Okay, back to work,” Mere orders. “We’ve intruded on this drama way too much already.”

When she finds her way back to the bar some twenty minutes later for a totally appropriate reason, table 34 is empty.

————————

A year later, Mere finds herself sitting on the Tilted Cactus bar counter on a Friday night, legs swinging and popping olives like they’re mints. She ended up not quitting her job the night she intended to. Between the excitement, the drama, and the on-duty alcohol, she was feeling pretty chill about sticking it out at the Tilted Cactus a while longer.

But she ended up quitting two days later when the owner found out about how she impersonated an assistant manager and gave her hell for it. She could have stayed, he wasn’t really going to reprimand her. But listening to him talk down at her while her stomach filled with dread at the idea of having to apologize and walk back into that hell hole…nah. Fuck the Tilted Cactus, fuck the owner, and fuck two weeks’ notice. They weren’t getting a minute out of her ever again.

She took the gamble of taking out more student loans and was wrapping up her EMT certification. She’d be in an ambulance soon enough, actually helping people. Not the dream that got her to America, but one that would suffice for now. Make up enough karma to get her feet back under her.

“The lesbians are back,” Umida announces excitedly in a whisper as she fits herself between Mere’s legs against the bar.

“Which lesbians?”

“THEE lesbians,” Umida returns, pointing out the window.

“Those are two guys, babe. Three if you count the kid.”

“They’re lesbians,” Umida insists, waving her hand to dismiss the kid from her labels. “They have strong lesbian energy.”

“You’re claiming them for your people?” Mere grins fondly. It’s the start of Pride again and Umida’s Ally pin has been traded in for a lesbian-flag coloured hijab secured with the updated BIPOC Pride flag pin. She’s very pretty in pink, right down to the lipstick Mere isn’t allowed to kiss off of her until her shift is up.

“I am, they’re mine. I claim them.”

“Wait,” Mere squints, trying to pin down the familiar feeling she’s getting, “are those…”

“The guys! Eddie and Buck. I told you they were semi-regulars now. And we were right, that’s totally their kid. I don’t know how, especially since we know they weren’t together before that night, but he’s their kid. My money’s on one of them being trans because he’s literally their spitting image combined.”

Mere sighs happily and hugs Umida to her. “Well, I’m glad some good came out of that night.”

“Umida?” a young voice asks from across the bar. In the year since the reopening, a slew of new hires have joined the ranks to replace all the veterans leaving and Mere barely recognizes anyone anymore. She saw Mikael (unsurprisingly single again) a couple of weeks ago but he’s clearly on his way out too. Tomas lasted until his probation was over before quitting. Umida, in no small part because she was the longest lasting employee, was rightfully promoted to the role of assistant manager. Mere still hopes she’ll leave this hell hole soon but in the meantime, at least she’s getting paid. And authority looks really good on her.

“What up, Jerome?”

Jerome pushes his dark blue fringe back and holds up a sheet of paper. “I have a note here to deliver a ring to a table with dessert but it doesn’t say who’s supposed to get it.”

“Oh my god, no, no way,” Mere laughs and tries to push Umida away. “Let me out of here.”

Umida’s arms close around her hips, preventing her escape.

“Calm down. I created a form so that night doesn’t happen again. Jerome, did you use the form?”

“Um, yeah.” He shakes the sheet of paper in his hands. “I mean whoever took the call did. They checked off the table number, and it’s a ‘fiancé’ not a ‘fiancée’, but it’s a table with two guys so…”

“Okay, but there’s a field for the name, did they fill it out?”

“How am I supposed to know who they are from a name though?”

“Oh my god, kid, you schmooze,” Umida says. “You roll up to their table, you lay on the customer service thick and introduce yourself and ask their names. People are idiots, they’ll tell you, just like that.”

Jerome cocks his head in contemplation. “Yeah okay, but no, there’s no name. It’s blank.”

“But you made a form,” Mere mock whispers.

Umida turns on her, her eyeshadow catching the bar lights as she narrows her eyes. “This is not the form’s fault, don’t you blame this on the form! The form has a field for a name! The form provides!”

“The form is flawless,” Mere agrees quickly, running her hand down Umida’s arm soothingly. “You can’t account for user error.”

Umida glares harder before looking up to the ceiling in supplication.

Mere, who has never in her life been able to resist picking at a scab, asks, “what table is it?”

Jerome checks the paper. “34.”

“The cursed table. The cursed lesbians!” Mere gasps, squirming out of the way when Umida tries to pinch her side.

“Well it’s not like the kid is a contender, so it’s 50/50,” Umida points out. “Much better odds than last time.”

“And to be fair, if the wrong guy gets the flute, he can just improvise and propose with the ring in hand,” Mere continues. “Overall, much less exciting drama than last time. 3/10 for me.”

“Thank god. Yeah, let’s do that.” Jerome walks away with his marching orders and Umida turns to Mere. “I have to actually go work. You gonna hang out here?” She’s off in a half hour and they have tickets to the back row of the latest Marvel nonsense.

“I got booze, olives, and an unobstructed view of my favourite drama. I’m all set.” In lieu of a proper kiss, Mere lifts Umida’s hand and kisses her wrist, delighting in watching her girlfriend’s eyes soften. She blows Mere a kiss and flits away to put out fires.

Mere is usually on her phone while she waits for Umida but tonight she watches table 34. The guys — Eddie and Buck, Umida reminded her — are across the table from each other, Eddie is relaxed in his chair but Buck is leaning forward, elbows on the table as he tells their son a story that has him cackling in his seat. They’re not holding hands, but anyone looking can see they’re together. They have ridiculous heart eyes for each other, and from her vantage point she can see those long legs intermingling again, one knee occasionally jostling into the other. Little tangible reminders that they’re there and together.

She saw hints of this that night, and to see it have taken hold and blossomed...suddenly she’s really invested in them having a great night. One of them planned this night out, wanted to surprise the other, and she doesn’t want that going to waste because of a blank field on a form.

Mere’s wearing a dark long-sleeve blouse, not too far off the dress code, so slips off the counter, snags the backup apron they always leave behind the bar and ties it around her waist. One of the newbies whose name she doesn’t know watches her from the host pedestal and Mere raises a fierce eyebrow at them until they go back to minding their own business.

She rinses out a jug and fills it with water and ice and slips back into her customer service posture to make the rounds of the tables in section 10.

“Well now, I recognize you handsome folk, don’t I?” she schmoozes when she gets to table 34, picking up Eddie’s glass first to fill.

Eddie doesn’t place her and she doesn’t blame him, he was under a lot of stress that night. It takes Buck a second but he gets it.

“Oh hey, yeah! Weren’t you — “ Buck cuts himself off awkwardly and casts an eye to Eddie and the kid. “You, ah, gave us our meals for free! Because of the, um, mix-up.”

That’s enough for Eddie to place her, and where Buck relaxes back into his chair as she fills his glass, Eddie goes stock still.

Bingo.

“What mix-up?” the kid asks.

“Ah, they put something in our drink by accident,” Buck lies without lying. “Real choking hazard! So they gave us our meals for free.”

“That’s dangerous,” the kid says.

“It was dangerous,” Mere agrees, filling his glass. “Choking hazard was right. Could have turned a really great night all wrong with a trip to the hospital.”

Eddie’s brow furrows slightly and Mere struggles to keep a neutral face.

“It’s never a good idea to hide things in food. I don’t know why people keep trying instead of just calling us for advice. We have tons of ways to help people with surprises.”

“I completely agree,” Buck says. “We’re actually firefighters and you wouldn’t believe how many accidental choking calls we get.”

Eddie swallows, his eyes looking mildly panicked.

“Firefighters!” Mere schmoozes harder, smiling at the kid as he gets excited again. “Well I certainly feel safer then.”

“Ah, you probably shouldn’t. I was actually one of those calls once,” Buck says halfway through a smile and grimace, pointing to his throat where there’s a faint scar. “Emergency tracheotomy on the floor of a restaurant. But that wasn’t a surprise, just, ah, too enthusiastic about the breadsticks.”

Eddie’s looking decidedly gray now, eyes laser focused on the scar.

“Okay, well I’ll just go ahead and clear these,” Mere says, jokingly reaching for the bread basket until Buck laughs back.

“I’m better now, promise! Small bites, chewed thoroughly!”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” she dithers dramatically, nodding to the kid. “If I leave those here, can I trust you to keep an eye on your dad?”

“Yeah!” the kid agrees with a toothy grin.

Buck’s cheeks redden quickly but he’s still smiling, his head ducked shyly in a way Mere doubts is due to her teasing. Eddie, meanwhile, is still looking poleaxed though fondness is fighting its way back in.

“Well, I was just subbing into this section so this will be goodbye for us but it was great to see you guys! Enjoy your evening!”

“Thanks, you too!” Buck says with an easy smile. Eddie manages a “thank you” and Mere has to restrain herself from patting his shoulder as she walks away.

She’s only just returned the apron to the bar when she sees Eddie walk in and head straight for the host before being led to the back.

“Ready to go?” Umida asks, back in her unsensible heels and cross-chest messenger bag.

Mere takes the hand she extends but tugs her closer instead of following her out, before saying the worst thing she’s ever said in her life, “Actually, do you mind if we stick around a little longer?”

“Something good about to happen?” she asks, peeking out the window.

Mere tugs her in closer and leans her chin on her shoulder. “I think so.”

Twenty minutes later, when Jerome passes by with a tray of assorted chocolate treats and two overturned coffee cups, Mere and Umida find themselves bracketed by half the front and back staff. Gossip still spreads like wildfire it seems.

Buck’s overturned coffee cup and plate is the last thing Jerome puts on the table, and as soon as it’s down, he excuses himself. He keeps a professional pace until he’s past the exterior doors and then he’s racing to take a front seat at the bar.

Eddie turns over his cup but doesn’t reach for the carafe, he wipes his hands on his jeans instead.

“Oh my god, he’s so nervous,” Jerome whispers.

“The kid is so in on it,” the host whose name Mere never caught says, and they’re right. Where Eddie’s tensed up, the kid is bouncing in his seat like he knows something’s coming.

“Come on, guy,” a bus boy mutters, checking his watch. His break is almost over.

Mere’s heart is beating hard in sympathy with Eddie’s as they all watch Buck ignore his coffee cup in favor of serving their kid from the tray. Then he signals to Eddie’s plate, who can’t not lift it for the offered chocolate tortes. Finally, there’s chocolate on everyone’s plates and Buck sits back to try a piece of brownie and Eddie can’t take it anymore.

He motions to the carafe and Buck perks up, finally reaching for his cup. But just as his fingers close around it, some idiot’s dog barks on the sideway, calling his attention away. His fingers flip the cup without ever looking at it, or the plate underneath it.

“Oh come on,” Umida moans.

The dog passes with its dumbass owner and Buck puts his cup back down, or tries to, but finds something in the way. He tries again, pushing the intrusion away with the bottom of the cup.

“Oh my god,” is whined in Mere’s left ear and when she turns her head she’s surprised to find not another Tilted Cactus employee but a customer dressed to the nines, pearls and all.

“Ma’am, did you —”

“Shh,” the woman returns, her eyes never moving from the window. Mere turns back too.

Finally, Buck has managed to push the offending items off the plate and settle his cup down and it’s a nail-biting few seconds where it actually looks like he’s going to reach for the carafe and go about his business.

But like a true wingman, the little kid points directly at it, prompting Buck to push the napkin aside and pick up — the ring.

Buck freezes, holding the ring between his thumb and index. His cheeks flush and a smile begins to break over his face before he looks startled and the smile falls abruptly away.

It’s about this time Eddie realizes that proposing by recreating the night they got together was never going to be the best idea when the impetus to their relationship was an engagement ring accidentally sent to the wrong person.

Eddie vaults out of his seat and into the empty one next to Buck, wrapping his hand around the one holding the ring, and bringing his other hand to his cheek to gently turn his head until Buck is looking at him. They can’t tell what he says, but they can watch Buck’s eyes fill with tears, watch as Eddie gestures to their son who’s smiling wide and reaching out for a hand, which Buck instantly provides. His attention comes back to Eddie then, who’s saying something that gets them both looking a little fragile and it’s hard to say if he actually popped the question yet but Buck is surging forward to kiss him hard and fast. Eddie gives as good as he’s getting for a moment before he slows them with small, gentle kisses. And when they finally break apart, Eddie plucks the ring from Buck’s fingers and slides it onto his ring finger as Buck watches, his eyes wide and half incredulous.

Outside, the nearby tables break out into applause, startling the trio and reminding the two men that they are indeed out in public. Eddie acknowledges the applause with an embarrassed hand and waits until they have a modicum of privacy again before taking Buck’s hand and kissing right near the where the ring now sits. He then reluctantly shuffles back into his seat.

Inside, Mere is hugging Umida to her with a strength buoyed by love. Around them, the staff are starting to disperse, some wiping their eyes, some with goofy grins on their faces.

“Young man,” the lady in the pearls says to Jerome, holding out her credit card, “I want you to charge that family’s meal to my card.”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s very generous of you.”

The woman sniffs delicately and leaves without another word. Hopefully Jerome knows where she was sitting…

“I’m glad she did that,” Mere says into Umida’s shoulder, “I was going to, otherwise, and I’m a broke-ass student.”

“I would have pitched in,” Umida says, her voice soft and pensive. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Mere agrees, sliding off the bar counter for the last time. “Oh, hold on.”

She gets closer to the window and turns the flash off of her camera before taking a pic.

“I think that’s bordering on creepy now,” Umida says without judgement.

“It’s not for me.” Mere sends the pic off with a note and three ring emojis.

They don’t make it out of the restaurant before her phone dings.

“What does Tomas have to say?” Umida asks with a smirk.

Mere pulls up the text and reads, “Gays and lesbians. Both, at the same time. Never doubting Umida’s gaydar again.”

Umida laughs victoriously, which shouldn’t be as sexy as it is, and Mere lets her drag her by the hand down the street, letting the nostalgia from tonight settle in her chest.

If there’s anything she misses from working the restaurant scene, it’s getting this glimpse into people’s lives.

Yeah, most of the work was gross, obnoxious, or mind-numbing. But every now and again, she got to be a part of strangers’ stories. Got to be there for the happiest days like graduations, or bridal showers. And even the sadder stories could be beautiful sometimes, like when she got to be extra kind to the elderly woman coming into the restaurant alone for the first time in ten years, or watch a family have their last supper together before their kid moves away for school. It’s just all so human and some kind of wonderful.

She hopes her career as a paramedic will have just a little bit of that kind of magic.

#911fic #buddie fics #buddie #my fics #okay this is fic 2 of 2 for pov outsider for me! #completely opposite tone of the last one this is just fun and dumb :P #hope y'all like it! #my posts